


Our Skeleton

by yastaghr



Series: Our Skeleton Universe [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bad Puns, Canon-Typical Violence, Depressed Sans, Flowey - Freeform, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Foreshadowing, Gender-Neutral Frisk, Hiding Medical Issues, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Humans can be jerks, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Multi, Nice Chara, POV Alternating, Papyrus Knows More Than He Lets On, Polyamory, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Sans Makes Puns, Sans Needs A Hug, Self-Denial, Short Sans, Shy Sans, Toriel makes puns, Undertale Saves and Resets, Video Game Mechanics, anti-monster prejudice, but the skeleton is fine, descriptions of injuries, inspired by zarla, matchmaker frisk, matchmaker papyrus, papyrus isn't an idiot, ptsd asgore, sans gets many hugs, skeletal dismemberment, tone deaf character, toriel can't sing, undyne why
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-26 06:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 39,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7563223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yastaghr/pseuds/yastaghr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The people who love him come to realise Sans may be hiding something from them.</p><p>(not the best of summaries, sorry)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sans drummed his phalanges against the side of his brother’s car as they sped along the highway, lost in thought. In between expertly dodging cars and following safety regulations to the letter, Papyrus stole an occasional glance at his older sibling. If he were being honest with himself, and Papyrus was never anything but honest with himself, he would say he was worried. Tactfully, Papyrus tried to figure out what about.

 

“BROTHER, OF COURSE I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM THE COOLEST AND MOST AMAZING OF BROTHERS.”

 

This seemed like a good place to start it off. Sans eye lights snapped over to him, twinkling slightly in Sans personal, lazy version of a smile, “of course pap,” he went back to staring out at the road.

 

Another car was successfully dodged, “AND OF COURSE I AM MORE THAN UP TO THE TASK OF HANDLING ANY AND ALL OBSTACLES WHICH I MIGHT FACE.”

 

Sans looked a bit more serious this time as he watched his brother, “yeah...did something happen at work today, bro?”

 

Papyrus started, “WHAT? NO, WHY WOULD YOU THINK THAT? I WAS...MERELY POINTING OUT AN INCONTROVERTIBLE FACT.”

 

Sans gaze softened, “just checking,” his eye lights didn’t leave Papyrus, though. He could feel the gaze inspecting him, looking for cracks or bruises or any other evidence of something gone wrong.

 

Papyrus sighed dramatically. It was always like this. Sans tried so hard to protect him, but this time, it was Sans who was in need of assistance, and Papyrus was going to figure out how to help if it killed him...figuratively speaking. Turning to dust was unlikely to improve Sans’ mood. He decided to quit beating around the bush and go for it. Sans never dealt well with his masterful subtleties.

 

“I MERELY WONDER, BROTHER, WHAT IT IS THAT IS TROUBLING YOU? SURELY IF SOMETHING IS WRONG, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL BE ABLE TO COME UP WITH A SOLUTION FOR YOU THAT IS TRULY INGENIOUS!”

 

Sans spluttered out an exclamation, “wh-what-t?” In an instant, the discomposure was gone, replaced once more with his usual grin. Papyrus was not fooled, “dunno what you’re talking about, bro. everything’s _cheeky.”_

 

Papyrus put on his best ‘I am not amused by your pun and your dissassembly, brother’ face. It was unfortunately one he was all too acquainted with, “BROTHER. YOU HAVE BEEN LOST IN THOUGHT FOR DAYS, YOU HIDE YOUR PHONE WHENEVER I COME CLOSE, YOU MISSED THE HUMAN’S UNFORTUNATELY DECENT SKELETON PUN EARLIER THIS MORNING-”

 

“oh, frisk made a pun? i am so proud-”

 

“AND YOU RUN AWAY EVERY TIME EITHER OF THEIR MAJESTIES COMES NEAR.”

 

Sans switched off. Papyrus stared with interest at the stationary pile of bones in the seat behind him. The eye lights in Sans’ head had switched off; the rise of his ribs had failed to fall; the tapping of bone on paint had ceased its rhythm; and the turning of his skull ended abruptly.

 

Papyrus chuckled, “OH, I SEE WHAT IT IS NOW, BROTHER. YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON THEIR MAJESTIES!”

 

Sans’ skull jerked back as if he’d been struck, “no way, bro!”

 

Papyrus smirked, “AS THAT ODDLY RHYMING BOOK YOU ONCE READ ME PUT IT, “METHINKS THOU DOST PROTEST TOO MUCH!” ADMIT IT SANS, YOU FIND THEIR ROYAL GOATNESSES ATTRACTIVE!”

 

Sans buried his head in his hands, the blue glow across his cheeks peeking though. Muffled protests fell on deaf ears as Papyrus smiled to himself. Well, if that was all, the solution was simple! Their Majesties would both be coming over this evening for the newly-traditional Handing Over of the Frisk Ceremony...with a few preparations, this problem would soon be behind them, and his brother would once more be his usual, punning self!

 

* * *

 

Toriel scrolled through the archived messages on her phone, giggling slightly over a few choice exchanges. All too soon, though, she reached the end of the little white bubbles, and melancholy overtook the joy. It had been days since Sans had last responded to her texts, and Toriel had only missed them more and more as time stretched on. She stared morosely at the last exchange before the easy back and forth turned into a line of increasingly desperate entreaties.

 

> Toriel: Oh, I have a good one! Knock knock!
> 
>  
> 
> Sans: who’s there?
> 
>  
> 
> Toriel: Reunited.
> 
>  
> 
> Sans: reunited who?
> 
>  
> 
> Toriel: Reunited with Asgore thanks to you!

 

And there the messages stopped. At first, she had suspected Sans’ phone had been stolen in

much the same manner as hers had often been. Then Frisk had shared with her a picture of Papyrus bathing in a shower of silver-wrapped chocolate candies...dated the morning after Sans had stopped responding and sent from his phone. Then she had been confused, hurt, angry, regretful - was it something she had said? Did he think the way she had broken the news was too childish? Had she offended him in some way?...but none of it made sense.

 

Now, she was aching to hear his voice again, even if it had to be through the thickness of the Ruins door. She had not realised how much the skeleton’s presence had come to mean to her until it was gone - not just his gorgeous grin, not just his unending supply of practical jokes, not just his readiness to listen to her rambling about Asgore, but even the little ping of his adorable jokes.

 

So here she was, curled up in her bedroom like a teenager, sobbing into her pillow and rereading his old texts. It really was rather pathetic of her, but she just...missed him so much!

 

A knock sounded on her door, and for a moment her heart raced...but then the knock continued, four beats instead of two. Another sob left her throat, and she curled up tighter.

 

The door handle turned open softly, barely audible above the muffled tears. Footsteps fell into the room, a steady gait that bore weight both physical and emotional that would make others crumple under the strain. The springs of her bed creaked, and a soft hand tentatively rubbed at her shoulders.

 

“Toriel...please tell me what has hurt you so much?”

 

Another wave of tears washed over her, and wordlessly, she handed over the phone. The sounded of Asgore’s enormous pads swiping across the surface entered the room. At long last, he sighed, and set the phone beside her.

 

“I hadn’t realised he’d cut you off, too. I am sorry, Toriel...I-”

 

The sobs stuttered to a halt at the heartbreak in his words. She sat up, face soggy but now concerned.

 

“Gorey, hush,” He fell silent. She studied his face, searching. On it, she saw the signs of a session of tears much like her own being strongly repressed. Instinct of old times when the dance of dealing with their own politicians’ worries and human ambassadors’ threats had brought him crying to her rooms took over, “Talk to me.”

 

“I...alright, Tori. I...had thought it was nothing, at first. We never had such...constant communications as you until recently, and...I thought it was just...a return to old times. But...it hurt more, this time. I...lately I have been using the texting device to talk with him almost daily. Questions of character for this or that human…asking for advice for how to settle some little disputes between monsters...answering questions about gardening, or history, or...you…” Asgore’s face grew bright red.

 

She snickered, “Talked a lot about me, have you?” The blush deepened. Something occurred to her...if Sans had...no, that was...it couldn’t be...would he really be that… “Phone.”

 

Asgore fumbled in his pockets, nearly dropping the device when it was finally located. She rescued it from its fate, then unlocked it. Sans’ picture was of a skeleton-design teapot he’d found in a store. She opened up their log. An expanse of bubbles stretched before her...the two had much larger bubbles than her own phone, if less frequent. She snickered when she realised just how much of their conversations ended up focusing on her. She skimmed over these messages as quickly as possible, for politeness’ sake.

 

Finally satisfied about just how much of this swooning had been happening, she returned to the bottom of the screen. Sure enough, the last bubble from Sans’ phone came only minutes before her own last conversation with the skeleton. She sighed. At least she could guess at the reason for his retreat, now, even if she was rather disappointed in him. She handed the phone back to Asgore.

 

“I believe our little skeleton may be having a problem being far too selfless for his own good.”

 

Asgore tilted his head in confusion. She elaborated, “I believe he may be trying to stay out of our way so his own feelings do not get in the way of our reunion.”

 

The light dawned. Asgore looked between her exasperated face and the phone in his paws, then guffawed. A smile twitched at her jaw...it really was rather silly. Romantic and noble and kind and utterly idiotic, the sort of gesture that came straight out of human media. Really, here they’d both been feeling betrayed and heartbroken, and all the while the skeleton had been trying to put their happiness before his own. Silly monster.

 

Asgore’s laughter wound down into chuckles, “That...would be typical of the skeleton, I must admit,” Another laugh, “Did you know he used to work five jobs...just so his brother had the time to spend training with my Captain of the Royal Guard?”

 

She nodded, “Yes. I am afraid that my efforts to explain the stupidity of that to him through the door fell on deaf ears. Did you know he stayed up for two weeks straight last year finalizing the paperwork to get the whole of Monsterkind authorised as Frisk’s legal guardians, just so their frequent house hopping wouldn’t be interrupted again by the law?”

 

Asgore wiped away a tear, “My dear, I was there when he collided with the copy machine on his way out of the Embassy after dropping it off. I do not think he even noticed it was there. Despite how touching it was to see Frisk’s face, I must admit he had me scared. I know he doesn’t like people worrying about him, but…”

 

Her eyes met his, the same idea shining in both their eyes. She bared her fangs in a rakish grin, “We will just have to explain to him then just how important it is to communicate, then. After all, it is important to tell your partners everything in a relationship, is it not?”

 

He smiled softly back, “Yes, it is. We rather found that out the hard way, didn’t we?”

 

She reached over to nuzzle his nose, “Yes, well, all the more reason for us to avoid that error in future. Now, let us go explain to our misguided skeleton that we are more than happy to share, as long as he is willing to put up with both of our snores!”

 

* * *

 

Papyrus and Frisk huddled together at the kitchen table, his voice barely audible over the whirl of the fan in the summer heat. The human giggled, then nodded, signing a smug comment to the younger skeleton brother. He grinned back.

 

“THEN IT IS SETTLED HUMAN! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, SHALL GREET THEIR ROYAL GOATNESSES, WHILE YOU, THE UNSTOPPABLE FRISK, SHALL DISTRACT MY BROTHER AND PREVENT HIM FROM USING ONE OF HIS SHORTCUTS TO ESCAPE BEFORE THE TRAP IS SPRUNG!”

 

The sound of tires on a gravel drive carried up the lawn. Papyrus’ eye sockets went googly.

 

“QUICK, HUMAN, TO THE ROOM!”

 

Frisk nodded. The look in their eye said that setting up another one of their friends in a romantic relationship...it filled them with determination. They ran over to a spot by the sock, tapped the air, and continued up the stairs.

 

Papyrus smoothed back his nonexistent hair as he hopped over to the front door. He flung it wide open, only remembering when he was faced with the raised hand of the King that it was customary to wait for guests to knock before answering the door. He pushed it aside in the name of the quest.

 

“YOUR MAJESTIES! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE BECOME SO ATTUNED TO YOUR NEEDS THAT YOU NEEDN’T EVEN KNOCK! HOW INTERESTING”

 

From behind Asgore, Toriel’s amused face circled forth, “Greetings, Papyrus. You would not happen to know if your brother was home, would you?”  


Papyrus straightened proudly. This plan was going even better than he had expected!

 

“WHY, YES. I AM AFRAID MY BROTHER HAS BEEN BEHAVING RATHER RUDE LATELY FOR A RATHER NAIVE REASON, AND BEFORE ANYTHING ELSE, I WOULD LIKE TO APOLOGIZE FOR THIS RUDENESS ON HIS PART.”

 

Asgore rumbled into life, “Of course, Papyrus. We actually wish to talk with him about this reason, if that would not be too much trouble.”

 

Papyrus tilted his head, “THEN YOU ARE AWARE OF MY BROTHER’S CRUSH ON YOU?”

 

A squeak sounded from the top of the stairs. The three turned to see Sans, head buried in his hands, a determined Frisk pinning his arms to his sides. The child had both feet splayed and hooked on opposite sides of the door to Sans’ room, anchoring the blushing monster and preventing further escape. Sans didn’t so much seem to be running now as rooted in place. Papyrus smiled. This trap was working out perfectly!

 

Behind him the Queen’s snort echoed through the hall. He stole a glance over his shoulder, and both Dreemur parents appeared equally amused at the sight. The king was the first one to contain himself enough to reply.

 

“Yes, Papyrus. In retrospect, it is amazing it took us until today to figure it out.”

 

The younger skeleton nodded his head wisely, “YES, IN SOME WAYS HE HAS BEEN RATHER OBVIOUS. OF COURSE, NOT EVERYONE CAN HAVE THE GREAT PAPYRUS’ SKILL IN THE ART OF TACT.”

 

The Queen’s laughter once again boomed into a roar. Above their heads, Sans somehow managed to fold even further in on himself. Asgore spared a glance for his howling wife and started up the stairs.

 

“Papyrus, I do believe our chat with Sans may be...rather lengthy. Would it be too much of a trouble to ask you to keep Frisk here for the weekend? I promise we will return your brother on...hmm. Dear, do you think Monday would be too late?”

 

Sans started shaking so back he was audibly rattling. Frisk’s stubborn face was quickly mixing with confusion and mild vertigo. Papyrus tried not to laugh. It really would do his brother no good. Sans sometimes took laughter very personally...which was odd for a comedian such as himself...and by the sound of that rattling, today might be one of those days. Still, the Great Papyrus had confidence that both their rulers would be able to talk his brother down from his fear eventually. He put in a comment.

 

“THERE IS NO NEED TO WORRY. FRISK AND I WILL BE FINE HERE FOR AS IT TAKES...AND IF ANYTHING GOES WRONG, I AM SURE SOMEONE WILL BE ABLE TO HELP! KEEP HIM AS LONG AS YOU NEED!”

 

Toriel’s laughter finally died down to manageable proportions, “That is very kind of you, Papyrus. I am sure Frisk and you will have a marvelous time. Gorey?”

 

The towering monster nodded to her, then wrapped his arms around the rattling pile of bones. For a moment, he looked startled. Then his grip tightened even further. Frisk extracated themselves from the hold with a pop, and landed on the ground, a wide, if still confused, smile splitting their face. Asgore smiled back, then carried the still-shivering skeleton back down to the door.

 

“Papyrus,” He nodded solemnly.

 

“YOUR MAJESTY,” the taller skeleton nodded back, grinning. Frisk giggled at the exchange.

 

Toriel pulled a set of keys out of her purse, “Come, Gorey. Let us get our skeleton home.”

 

They made their way down to the car, the elder skeleton gone limp in Asgore’s hands.

 


	2. Chapter 2

A mud-stained minivan eased its way onto the highway, pulling up between a workhorse pickup truck and a hand-me-down teenager’s first sedan. The paint-spattered man in the pickup’s cab smiled tiredly at the sound of off-key singing from the car. Whoever that lady was, she was enjoying herself enough not to care that she sounded like a lovesick goat.

 

Inside the car, Asgore winced as his long-suffering wife hit yet another grating high note. There were many things about her he loved. Her singing voice was not one of them, although he would not dream of telling her this. He sighed, and returned his focus to the bundle in his arms.

 

The sudden end to the shaking earlier had worried Asgore a little bit. Sans sockets were entirely blank at the moment, an unsettling expression that somehow did not seem to be focused on him. It was more...generalised than that. No obvious emotions were passing across his face. But…

 

But the corner’s of Sans’ smile were loose, relaxed even. He’d noticed Sans’ smile grew wider the more uncomfortable the skeleton was. It never seemed to truly leave, but this, right now, was one of the most untroubled expressions he’d ever seen. Sans wasn’t afraid right now. Nervous, maybe. Uncertain, confused, mildly injured from the horrible singing, certainly. But not afraid. 

 

In truth, if he saw or felt any signs of real fear in the monster, he would stop this whole thing instantly. He cared about the skeleton, and as much fun as this was, he really did want Sans to be okay with it. He knew Tori would feel the same way. Sans was usually a very thoughtful monster when it came to those around...the least he deserved was the same kind of thoughtfulness directed towards him.

 

Slowly, watching that smile all the while, Asgore brought his paw up to the top of Sans head. No reaction. Not good, but not bad either. 

 

He set the paw down gently, enough pressure to register but not too much to strain. Still no change...or was that the flicker of light in the depths of those eyes? He waited. The chorus passed, then the second verse. Faint pinpricks grew into being, not even three shades lighter than the surrounding black. They watched him, steadily. He watched back.

 

Both he and Sans winced when, at the start of the bridge, Toriel hit a note that was somehow more off pitch than any note he had ever heard before. They shared a look, and a quiet smile spread across Asgore’s face. The eye lights grew to almost their normal shade. The smile turned into a grin, then a wince at the final warbling note. 

 

A light pressure pushed up into his hand. The skeleton looked comforting, sympathetic, affectionate...but also wary, deeply, intensely wary. Uncertain of his reception? Asgore’s eyes twinkled warmly, and as the car slowed to a stop, he let his paw move in the slow, gently strokes that had been his intention all along. 

 

He concentrated on the sensation for a moment, letting himself and Sans get used to the feeling of callused pads on porous bone. When he opened his eyes it was to see closed sockets beneath him. His breath hitched, and his eyes flicked to the corner of that mouth...but it was still relaxed, even more so than before. His breathing whooshed out in a sigh of relief and admiration. The expression on Sans’ face was so happy, so calm, so trusting...he wanted to see it again and again. He wanted it never to leave...well, perhaps  _ sometimes _ he’d like to see another expression on that face. His cheeks blushed.

 

Quiet laughter greeted him. His eyes lifted to meet those of his wife, a wicked gleam in her eyes. He shivered, and felt Sans stir.

 

“Come along now, you adorable cuddlepusses. I am sure our table should be ready by now, and though sitting here watching you like that all day would please me greatly, I  _ am _ rather hungry...and there are some things must talk about, as well.”

 

Sans twitched in his arms. Asgore stroked his skull again soothingly, noting the returning tightness at the corner of his mouth. He tried to ease it, “I must say, I have heard good things about this place. Quiet, good service, excellent food, friendly and welcoming to human, monster, and Temmie alike. We’ve been looking forward to trying it out for several weeks now...but if you’d rather we eat someplace else, Sans, we are more than willing to save it for another day.”

 

Toriel nudged him in the ribs, and he gave her a confused look. She elaborated, “What Fluffybuns meant to say was that we wish to eat wherever will make you the most comfortable, Sans, be it here or Grillby’s or back at Newer Home. What matters most is that we are able to be with you.”

 

The skeleton blushed and ducked his head, mumbling into Asgore’s sleeve. Toriel looked amused, then leant down to brush her own paw across his cheek. His skull followed the movement like a lovesick puppy, then the blush spread even further and he pulled away. She smiled adoringly, as did Asgore. 

 

“here’s fine by me, tor.”

 

She leaned down to give his skull a quick peck. The blue tint practically exploded across his head. Asgore though it was the cutest thing he had ever seen. 

 

Toriel’s smile was just as wide as she stepped out the car door, “Then I shall inquire as to the readiness of our table, should I not?”

 

Asgore could not help but notice that both he and the skeleton shared identical sighs as Toriel made her way into the building. He looked down at the monster in his arms, who was still fixated on the beautiful goat outside, and wondered how it had ever taken them this long to notice the devoted little monster who did so much for them was more than a little in love with them both. Well...it hardly mattered. As Tori had said, what mattered most was that, now they were able to bring him in, too.

 

* * *

 

Quiet conversation filtered into their secluded booth from the adjacent room. As both Toriel and Asgore were rather oversized to fit in standard restaurant seating, they had learned to call in ahead of time and inquire if benches or booths could be set up to accommodate their height. Places unwilling or unable to make the effort were unlikely to have been worth going to in any case. The system worked out alright in the end.

 

“So, Sans...” 

 

Now that the process of ordering drinks and food was over, it was time to get down to the matter at hand. It was much easier to read Sans’ expressions when he wasn’t able to hide behind a menu, a text message, or a door. The only question was how to start.

 

Asgore picked up on her hesitation and jumped in, “These past few days have been...rather unpleasant for the both of us, Sans.”

 

The skeleton’s eye sockets turned down at the corners in his version of a frown, “oh...rough couple of classes, tori? helen been giving you trouble again?”

 

She felt a mix of emotions. Disappointment that he did not think of his own silence as a potential cause, pleasure that he cared enough to try to help her, amusement at the memory of the last time Sans and Helen had been face to skull, annoyance that he was trying to turn the conversation onto her...or was he? 

 

She was used to thinking of Sans as always in control, always aware of what motivated the people around him down to a hair...but these past few days had been a massive lapse in that perfect judgement, had they not? Sans had caused her and Gorey so much pain...but he had certainly not intended it that way. She thought he had been trying to let them be happy, even if it hurt himself...had they not made it clear yet that he’d been wrong?

 

“Sans, what hurt us so was the absence of you.”

 

His eyelights dropped out again, and he froze. Asgore, just as concerned and confused as she, took over.

 

“Sans, both of us realised...you have come to mean quite a lot to the two of us. Your jokes, your advice, your support. You really care, and we in turn care about you.”

 

She took up the thread, “But it is more than the absence of a friend we have missed. Texting with you is the highlight of my day, and losing that...I had thought I had offended you.”

 

Asgore did not skip a beat, “Two days ago you shortcutted out of the Embassy before I had completely entered the room. Knowing that I would not be able to speak with you, to admire you...my heart twinged.”

 

Toriel  snaked a paw across the table, snagging one of the still-frozen skeleton’s own, “Your brother’s announcement truly was not a surprise to us, Sans, although it was pleasant to hear it spoken out loud. This afternoon we realised you have more than a little crush on our silly old selves-”

 

Asgore finished her sentence as he encircled their joined hands in his own, “And we, in turn, have one of our own. Sans the Skeleton-”

 

She smiled, “These past few days have been hard on us, without doubt. Our hearts have been aching-”

 

Asgore joined in, “For the skeleton we have both come to love.”

 

A polite cough interrupted the silence that followed these words. Toriel turned to see an apologetic waiter bearing a tray with their food at her elbow. She smiled politely and disengaged her paw from the pile, freeing up table space for their food. The plates were deposited, the embarrassed waiter vanished into that place where waiters go when they aren’t at your elbow looking interested. The mood had shifted, and Sans spoke.

 

“heh heh...good one, guys. you got me. very, um... _ humerous _ .”

 

The only reason she did not scream was the edge of panic and despair in the skeleton’s voice, slight but still noticeable. She looked over at Asgore, whose face mirrored the concern she herself felt.

 

“Sans...I do not understand. What makes you think this is a joke?”

 

A bead of sweat rolled down his brow, “because…” the rest of the sentence trailed into indistinct mumbling. 

 

She fought the beginnings of a frown, “Sans.”

 

Asgore reached across the table to grab his hand before she had even registered the buildup of magic. He looked stern, “Sans, do not run away. Please, just talk to us. Why would you think we are saying anything other than the complete and honest truth?”

 

Sans tugged at his arm, but Gorey was more than strong enough not to let go. The skeleton’s eyes narrowed into a frown, “stop it.”

 

The scowl was real now, “Sans, do you really believe we are going to just let you leave? We-”

 

His voice dropped into icy, terrifying calm.

 

“ **stop caring about me. you’re supposed to be happy together, just like you used to be. you don’t need me.** ”

 

Asgore’s face softened, “My friend...do you really think so little of us, that you believe we could just let you go on like this?” Her face twisted into a look of confusion. What was he on about?

 

Sans shook his head violently, the first movement it had made in quite a while, “...no?”

 

Asgore reached over to grab the skeleton’s hand, bringing it to his lips for an admiring kiss. The blue blush made its return.

 

“We love you. No force in the world will make that stop, now that we realise it has begun. We love you and want you in our lives. You, the adorable, thoughtful skeleton who sends us texts at three in the morning because his brother cannot sleep, who hides a whoopee cushion under our sofa cushions for a laugh, who listens to our rambling and finds the time to improve our lives in big ways and in small. You.”

 

Every comment sent Sans further and further into the huddled posture of a hunted animal. Toriel wondered what Gorey was driving at, as this line of reminiscences seemed to be making the skeleton more uncomfortable, not less...until she felt the thrumming. 

 

The magic was sad, unbearably depressing, and powerfully caustic enough that she wondered how she had never felt it before. It seemed to run over itself, shredding and tearing at its own tendrils without relent. She reached out a hand for Sans’ own and the power flinched away. Oh.

 

She looked over at Asgore, who’s saddened face made a great deal more sense now that she could feel what Sans was emoting. She wondered idly why it was only now that she heard his power, but questions like that could wait until later, when the skeleton was reassured and wrapped safely in their arms. 

 

“Sans, there is a piece of our lives that has been missing for years, a piece we never realised was missing until we met you. You complete us, with your constant puns and your relentless support and your...you. We need you, we want you, and that need and want will not be going away anytime soon.”

 

Asgore rumbled again, wiping away the tears brimming at the skeleton’s eyes with his free paw, “Whatever darkness you carry we will try to bring some light. Believe me when I say there is no burden you might bring that we would not shoulder just to be with you.” 

 

She smiled warmly, nuzzling her face into his hand, “So no more of this martyrdom, Sans. Let us go home.”

 

His eye lights faded into life, wobbling uncertainly as they drifted between Asgore and herself. She let all her certainty, affection, and support well to the surface, wanting him to see that they really did mean this. It worked, because he chuckled wetly, the corners of his mouth loosening enough to hide two and a half teeth!

 

“guess there’s nothing i can do to stop you, is there?”

 

Asgore chuckled, “Nothing whatsoever.”

 

Sans looked abashed. Then his eyes shifted, wobbling lights twinkling at the edges, “still...it is a shame to let all this food go to waste.”

 

She snorted, and Asgore looked chagrined, staring down at the cooling meal before them in distress. She and Sans shared an amused look, even if his was still tinged with a layer of tears.

 

“Whoever said we must depart right away? I am sure we can manage some kind of conversation long enough to complete our meal. Is that not so, Dreemur?”

 

Asgore jumped, looking guilty, “Yes, Tori.”

 

She smiled reassuringly at him, and picked up her spoon.

 

* * *

 

Toriel stared fondly down at the skeleton in her arms as they walked up the path to Newer Home. The glow of moonlight on Sans’ sleeping skull was intoxicating, bright and blue and delicately soft. She admired how calm he looked like this, asleep in her arms, trusting...she could see why Gorey had been so rapt. She wanted to see the skeleton like this again. 

  
She hummed. Her words really had been true, had they not? She wanted to be with him, with both of them, and never have to leave. It was as though they had been two bookends leaning against each other all these years, only to discover the perfect book to rest between. It did not matter what they were doing, so long as they could be together, two Boss Monsters and their perfect skeleton safe between.


	3. Chapter 3

Asgore woke to two feelings, one comfortably familiar, one less so. Toriel’s right hand across his forehead with thumb iddly hooked around his left horn was familiar, as was the tickling white fur of her arm scraping against his eyelids. She had always had a fascination with holding his horns, and this was far from the first time she had done so in her sleep. The effort it took not to sneeze was oddly nostalgic.

 

The other sensation was neither familiar nor comfortable. Hard, pointy objects dug several inches into the right side of his stomach and gut, not so much painful as pressure just short of actual harm. It reminded him of those nights one or another of his children had climbed into bed between them, but less padded. 

 

He heard Toriel’s snores off to his right sputter into shallower sleep, and smiled. For some reason, despite all logic in this situation, both he and Toriel snored loudly enough to wake the dead. They had, in a way, done so, many years ago. The memory was faded, faces blurred and words remembered more than how they were said. Another monster they had both loved, who hadn’t the heart to wake the two of them and assert his need for sleep. Another skeleton…

 

Ah, that was who was poking him. He supposed Sans couldn’t help being boney, and Tori and he were both known to shift around a lot in their sleep. He went to roll out of his side of the bed so the adorable little skeleton would have a way out.

 

A loud series of creaks and scrapes, ending with one loud and somewhat squelchy pop, made him stop. It was a set of sounds unlike anything he’d ever heard before, somewhat ominous and yet comical. There were elements of a ship’s mast creaking in a gale, and ceramic tile sliding off a roof, and the last reminded him of galoshes breaking free of a bog. All together, it was a set of sounds that very much did not belong in their bedroom.

 

His eyes searched the room, but nothing was out of place, no strange sigils or child’s toys, no scientific contraptions or uninvited guests. The only sounds now were the sounds of Toriel’s breathing shifting into wakefulness and his own rapid breath...and a cough. A polite cough, followed by a quite, smooth voice, every syllable carefully laid out like it had come out of an old hand-printer.

 

“whelp. gotta  _ hand _ it to you, asgore. never would have put two down for punishing a monster this early in the morning. all i wanted to do was not be crushed...didn’t even think i’d been that loud. sorry.”

 

Asgore blinked sluggishly against the pale morning light, trying to process exactly what about that sentence was supposed to make sense. Toriel chuckled in her sleep, the chuckle he knew always followed a pun, intentional or not. For the life of him he couldn’t figure out what it was. He grasped onto the one part of that comment he had managed to comprehend.

 

“Don’t worry, Sans. You didn’t wake me,” The skeleton let out a noise that was a mixture of acknowledgement, amusement, and a tiny amount of pain…? “Sans, are you alright?”

 

The skeleton huffed, amusement and something else Asgore couldn’t quite place, “we talkin’ physically, mentally, or morally? ya gotta pick one, they’re three very different answers.”

 

Asgore sighed, rolling back all the way back to face Sans. The skeleton’s grin was stiff around the edges, his eye lights pinpricks in the shadowy canyon between his two furred bedmates. Sans’ hoodie was somehow more wrinkled than usual, his t-shirt stained with blue sweat and a wet patch Asgore suspected might be his own drool. He’d always been a bit of a mess to sleep with...his own clothes probably looked just as bad. Tori’s dress certainly had a few wrinkles.

 

“Which answer will involve the least amount of punnage? It is too early for puns.”

 

Toriel’s voice rumbled into the conversation, her eyes still closed and crusty with sleep, but a comment like that could probably bring her back from the edge of dust.

 

“It is never too early for puns, Asgore.”

 

The twinkle in Sans’ sockets warned Asgore he was outnumbered, and this was a battle it would be better to concede before it had even begun. He mumbled indistinct complaints about ganging up on him, but the smiles on both his bedmates’ faces said they knew they’d won. He retreated back into an earlier line of attack.

 

“Sans. Why did you…” his mind finally processed another part of that first speech, “What punishment?”

 

Sans eyes shone like stars. Asgore soaked up the enticingly eager expression of Sans about to set up a joke, wondering how else he could get the skeleton that worked up,  “well, you know in some of the old history books it says they used to cut off people’s hands for a first offense?”

 

Toriel grumbled, “Your mother was a bit overzealous when it came to the law, was she not?”

 

Sans’ eye lights stopped twinkling and went wide enough to fill most of the space, “oh. uh...sorry, didn’t realise that was a...uh…”

 

Asgore sighed, and Toriel giggled, opening her eyes at last.

 

“Nothing to apologize for, Sans. Where were you going with this anyway?”

 

Sans lights darted to the side, clearly trying to escape the ill-formed joke. Toriel, interested, rolled closer to them and leaned over Sans’ face. The odd sounds from earlier repeated themselves. This time, however, Asgore was watching Sans’ face. He saw a wince of pain and the flash of blue in the depths of Sans’ left eye.

 

“Sans?!” His voice broke under his worry and concern. Sans brought his left arm up in what was probably meant to be a gesture of reassurance. It would have been more so had his hand not been missing from the end of his wrist.

 

Asgore and Toriel moved in the same instant, him jumping off the bed accompanied by the clatter of a hard object falling to the floor, and her sitting up and pulling Sans into her lap, green magic already flickering around the tips of her claws. She winced, shifted on the bed, and reached down, pulling something white and oddly familiar from beneath her legs. She blinked in surprise, eyes swinging between it and the skeleton in her lap. 

 

Curious, Asgore bent down to the floor to retrieve whatever had fallen when he’d stood. Phalanges waved at him weakly from their place on the floor, joints stuffed with torn white fur. The glow of blue magic wisping around the bones was so faint as to be invisible. He squeaked, an undignified and utterly discomfited noise of surprise, and collapsed with one arm hooking the edge of the bed as his knees gave way.

 

Behind him, Sans snorted, “from the expression on your faces, i’d say frisk never mentioned this, did they? the kid’s got to have helped me get pap’s leg back from that little dog...monster...thing at least a dozen times by now.”

 

Asgore was too busy hyperventilating on the floor to react, but Toriel broke her silence with a laugh, “Sans that is-”

 

A flare of magic in the disembodied hand in front of him had Asgore gasp like a fish out of water. The blue light around it seemed to condense into something more substantial, liquid almost, and Sans swore.

 

“Sans, what is wrong?” Toriel’s voice was filled with concern.

 

“hand’s giving up on me. heh, figures. pap’s can be missing one of his bones for days before it starts dying on him...guess i’m not as cool as he is.”

 

Asgore watched as little particles of grey drifted off of the hand before him. He knew he should be giving it back to Sans, wrapping it up, healing it, something! But every command he gave went unheard, his body still in too much shock to move.

 

Toriel took charge, “Asgore can you…oh.” 

 

She’d seen him, then, and she’d known him long enough to know what was happening and just how useless he’d be for the next hour or so. She sighed, “Sans, off. Here, I believe this is yours. If it would not be too much trouble, put it back on. Thank you.”

 

“didn’t even have to ask. hello, foot, my old friend. ow,” Another pulse of magic from the hand. The suspension was definately liquid now. A note of panic entered Sans voice, so small that anyone not well acquainted with the skeleton would have thought he was calm as stone, “tori, i really could use a  _ hand _ right about now.”

 

Her large paw entered Asgore’s field of vision. A tiny and, right now, supremely unhelpful corner of his mind noted it was still as beautiful as the day she’d first let him hold it. She picked up the dismembered pile of bones before him with a minimum of squelch. It was still connected enough that little bones weren’t rolling all over the hardwood floor, but the way it stretched out made him dizzy. He tried to get the image of tiny little bones splayed out in a pool of red, crushed underfoot by a world in too much of a rush to care what fell before it, out of his mind. The leftover liquid blue even now leaving stains on the floor wasn’t helping matters.

 

“Here. I have to  _ hand  _ it to you Sans, you certainly do know how to start the mornings with a bang, do you not?”

 

Sans chuckled, the laughter edging with guilt and concern, “heh, yeah. though i’d put my  _ hand  _ up to wanting just a bit more sleep, on the whole. um...asgore, you okay over there?”

 

Asgore’s breath stuttered, then resumed it’s slowly deepening pace. Tori took it on herself to answer, “He will be fine. He has never been the most stoic monster when it came to other’s injuries. He is fine when the ENCOUNTER screen is engaged, but the moment the wounds leave the blackout he does this. If we leave him alone for a few minutes he will be fine. I am afraid our puns may not be helping matters.”

 

The sound Sans made...Asgore could imagine the look of guilt deepening in his sockets. Tori heard it too, “Sans, do not blame yourself. You did not know. I knew, and I joined in. It is not as bad as all that,” From the length of the following silence, Asgore suspected Sans was not looking at all relieved. Tori let out a huff, “Sans.”

 

“sorry. i...sorry. i just- i- i’ll go.”

 

Asgore felt the odd not-quite-surge that always preceded one of Sans’ shortcuts. It was not like the gathering of scattered power. Not in the least. It was more as though a set of blackout curtains had been flung aside, revealing the dazzling sunlight that had been waiting outside all along. An odd sensation to experience in one’s magic, to be sure. 

 

Tori had apparently caught on to the feeling by now, or at the very least had picked up on some other signal Sans had given off. He heard the thump of flesh meeting bone, and a muffled squawk of protest from Sans. 

 

“You will do no such thing, Sans...what is your full name, Sans?”

 

“dunno. pap’n me just sorta are. never met any other skeletons that we can remember, so...yeah.”

 

“That seems wrong, Sans. How can it be that you do not remember your parents?”

 

“no clue. earliest thing either of us can remember is wandering into snowdin in the middle of a storm. bumped straight into the innkeeper, and pap’s tried to make friends despite being practically grey with cold.”

 

A thought, a very rude thought, entered Asgore’s brain. He wondered if all of Sans’ stories were going to revolve around Papyrus in some way. The rude bit was the thought that if they did, he would quickly reach the point where he would strangle Sans if he said his brother’s name one more time. Asgore pushed the thought aside and buried it. 

 

“Well,” Her voice faded out, then came back in full scold, “Sans, brother of Papyrus, skeleton of Snowdin, you are going nowhere!”

 

Asgore felt confused, although with most of his thought process taken up with calming down the various memories that were trying to drive him off the wall, this was not all that surprising. Sans appeared to be in the same boat.

 

“um...what?” Asgore had the feeling Sans was subjecting Tori to one of his long, slow blinks. They always made shivers run up his spine, although for the life of him he could not explain why.

 

“Sans, if you are going to threaten to leave, at least pay attention to the person telling you why you should stay!”

 

Sans voice sounded thick now, as thick as the fog in Asgore’s head, if not thicker, “i am. kinda hard to focus with you rubbing my skull like that. it’s...nice.”

 

Asgore wanted to chuckle. A pale, breathy imitation was all he could manage, though. It seemed he and Tori had stumbled upon a rather adorable weakness. He wondered how many others they could figure out. He hoped there were quite a few.

 

“Ah...well, then, I suppose I must let you off the hook this once, must I not? Of course, I would be more inclined to let you up if you were to promise not to leave.”

 

Sans’ voice was still thick, but there was a note of anxiety cresting over the edge, “tor, you know i don’t like making promises.”

 

Toriel hummed thoughtfully. Asgore wondered briefly where the short skeleton had gotten such a fixation on the things, and why he seemed so wary of them. He also wondered where Tori had learned of it. 

 

“Hmm...perhaps that is a rather tall promise, is it not? There are far too many circumstances that would force you into a need for it to break.”

 

Asgore found his voice at last, “Tori. We don’t need to make him promise anything. He needs to be free to leave, as are you and I, no matter how we might wish to make him stay.”

 

Tori huffed, albeit sadly. Sans chirruped and jumped off the bed, right leg collapsing underneath him and leaving him sprawled beside Asgore’s outstretched arm. He blinked at the skeleton, who was muttering angrily about magic flow rates and his HP. The skeleton looked absolutely adorable like that, annoyed and a bit worried and sprawled on the floor. He managed to right himself, crawling over in front of Asgore’s face on his knees. There, he stopped, watching Asgore like a mouse cornered by a snake. 

 

Asgore took the opportunity to inspect their skeleton more closely. Tufts of fur - his own and Toriel’s, without a doubt - still clogged up the joints of Sans’ right foot. His left hand looked even worse, the liquid magic acting like glue, half dried and cutting the range of motion for that hand in half. Asgore winced. That was the hand that had been pinned under him. It was also Sans’ dominant side, and he had no idea how long it would take to recover. He opened his mouth to apologize...as did Sans.

 

“sorry, Gore-”

 

“I am sorr-”

 

They both stopped, gaping. Tori let out a snort, then a guffah, then a bellow of laughter that shook the entire room. They both turned to look at her, heads tilting in sync. She opened her eyes and laughed again.

 

The two of them shared a sheepish looks as Toriel dissolved into laughter. Sans was the first to give, shrugging apologetically and doing a wonderful imitation of a cat melting into a warm ball of fur in the sun, especially when you considered the handicap of being entirely made of bones. 

 

Asgore smiled adoringly, and reached out an arm to stroke Sans on the skull. He practically purred. No, that was a lie - he did purr, low and more of a rattle than a proper purr, but there was nothing else it could be. Asgore let out a hum of pleased surprise, and leant a little deeper into every stroke. 

 

Toriel wound down, an indulgent and admiring smile filing her face as she watched the two. Asgore met her eyes, his smile growing bigger. She winked, and stood up, grabbing a spare sundress off of the armoire’s knob and swaying out of the room. He suspected the sway was there for his benefit, as Sans was much too busy in his happy daze to actually open his eyes. Thus he stayed, watching the adorable figure before him, while not far away Toriel got started on the next part of their surprise.


	4. Chapter 4

Toriel hummed quietly as she worked. Eggs sizzled happily in bubbling margarine over her summoned flame. She'd always preferred margarine in her cooking, going all the way back to the days when she had first cooked Aboveground. As popular as fat had been at the time, its tendency to reflavor her sweeter pies was a trait she could do without. 

 

This batch of eggs before her was almost finished, the edges of the whites crisping ever so slightly in the way she knew Asgore liked. Sans had yet to indicate a preference one way or the other to her, but both her dear ones would eat anything she gave them without a qualm. Of the two, she was certain Sans had the stronger stomach. Not that her cooking would ever test it, not like his brother’s did. 

 

She had once had the pleasure of eating Papyrus’ spaghetti. It was not precisely bad. It was more...she did not know how to describe it. Odd was the only word she could imagine, and even that failed to describe the sensation in full. The enthusiasm with which he cooked, however, more than made up for the taste. Still, she made it a point now never to accept offers of Friendship Spaghetti. Politely, of course, but firm nevertheless. Once was enough for her. 

 

Poor Gorey did not have the heart to deny him, though, and she had seen him bravely face the certain prospect of noodle-shaped doom time and again. It was adorable how sweet he could be, sometimes verging on pitiful. This was certainly one such time, although not quite to the point where she would interfere. He would either learn, or his stomach would adapt. Either way, the experience would be good for him, and Papyrus loved it. And of course, anything that made Papyrus happy raised Sans’ mood tenfold. 

 

Toriel turned to grab the three plates she'd already begun to fill from behind her and nearly jumped out of her fur. 

 

“Oh, Sans, I did not hear you arrive,” her eyes narrowed in mischief as a pun occurs we to her, “You really are an  _ egg-celent  _ sneak.”

 

The small skeleton, who had been perched on the counter, legs dangling, sockets fixed on her as she cooked, absolutely lit up at the pun. His left socket closed in a companionable, lazy wink. 

 

“heh, yup. you could say i’m  _ quiet as the grave. _ ”

 

She reached a paw behind her, rattling the rack of stainless-steel cookware behind her, and not so accidentally pulling her dress tighter against her. Sans blue flush was a perfect reward. It really was a pleasure to behold. 

 

“I  _ pan  _ ask you a question, can I  _ pot?” _

 

His left foot started tapping in the air, a happy nervous tick she had picked up on somewhere around the third time he and his brother had dropped by to pick up Frisk. The faster the vibration, the more excited th skeleton. She sometimes wondered, if they were to make him happy enough, would be vibrate himself into the atmosphere? She would not put it past him. 

 

His boney face turned sly, and he gestured at the stove, “i think  _ oil _ let you, just this once. what’s  _ cooking up there?”  _

 

This last was accompanied by the first phalange on his left hand pointing up. She noted the movement was slower than usual, but still within the bounds of what he might do for dramatic effect. She made a note to inspect his hand later. The fur was mostly removed, but she did not want to discover too late that he had been hiding his pain from them. Injuries did have a tendency to compound, if not treated properly. 

 

Toriel snickered at the pun. She had been somewhat hesitant to poke fun at his height when they'd first seen each other face to skull (or more accurately stomach to skull), but now the height-themed jokes flowed both ways. 

 

“Nothing too  _ lofty _ , I assure you. Merely curious as to why you did not speak up?”

 

She watched with interest as the blue tint deepened and spread, racing to cover every inch of beautiful bone. 

 

Behind Sans a deep chuckle rumbled in through the open archway, “For the same reason I do, I suspect. Watching you is far too much of a pleasure to cut short, my dear. Especially when you are cooking. You have a way of bringing a kitchen to life which is simply breathtaking.”

 

Asgore came into the room fully during this speech, languid strides bringing him to her side. He reached over and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into a kiss. She closed her eyes and leaned in, humming happily, hugging him close, until the feeling of magic around them became noticably tinged with anxious static. She did not hesitate to act, reaching over to grab the front of Sans’ shirt. She pulled him off the counter to join them. He ended up with is increasingly blue skull wedged nicely between their shoulders, his legs dangling quite a bit off the floor.

 

She and Gorey both smiled down at him, planting identical kisses on either side of his head. The noise Sans made was somewhere between a squeak and a purr, with elements of a pigeon’s coo mixed in. It was breathy, high pitched, and absolutely adorable. She vowed to make him make that noise as often as possible, and as soon again as she could manage.  

 

Toriel planted a longer, wetter kiss on his skull as an experiment. This time, the sound he made was longer and lower. Still embarrassed, but less surprised and almost needy. She did not think Sans would object to more kisses like that. Not at all. 

 

The smell of slightly burnt eggs wafted up to her nostrils. The morning’s original purpose having effectively interrupted the unexpected romance, she reluctantly pulled away from the hug, letting Asgore scoop their skeleton up for reassuring whispers. She returned to her breakfast, determined now to make these the best eggs her dear ones had ever had. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! School has been much busier than I'd thought, and this chapter didn't want to end. It's extra long, though, so maybe that'll make up? Anyway, have some cute.

“so...got any plans for today?”

 

Toriel felt the slow shaking of the table as Sans’ foot bounced to a steady beat. She smiled at him. His face was relaxed and curious, the only tension in his magic revolving around his hand. Perhaps a trace of anxiety, but no more. She followed the trace of his clavicles under his t-shirt, the broad curve uneven, but somehow stronger for that. 

 

She frowned as her eyes lit upon a stain in the fabric, crusty red trailing down from trim to the bottom of his joint. She made a note to ask him to change shirts before they left the house, and to start a load of laundry with…

 

“Oh dear. I did not realise - Sans, we two brought you out of your house without a single change of clothing, did we not?”

 

The skeleton shrugged, “this is pretty much it, tor. i got a few dozen socks, and maybe another t-shirt back home, but that’s about it.  _ pant _ say i ever saw the need for more.”

 

She stared at him. Asgore stared at him. Sans blinked back at them, starting to sweat. Asgore’s mouth worked silently. Her own mind had ground to a halt as she tried to comprehend how one could go about living without at least two changes of clothes. She was failing miserably.

 

Sans’ phalanges worried at a loose thread on the table cloth, “heh. is that...a problem?” His voice rose with worry.

 

Toriel pushed back her chair, rising to her feet abruptly, “No. Well, perhaps it is, but it is a problem that is quite simple to solve.”

 

Her eyes met Asgore’s, and he grinned, “Oh yes. That will be perfect, Tori.”

 

“um...what would be perfect?” Sans looked a little nonplussed.

 

Asgore turned to him with a grin that bore quite a bit of friendly fang, “Why, shopping! It has been quite a while since I have had someone to shop for, and I must say I find it fun!” 

 

Sans gulped, his blue blush breaking out as his eye lights fixed on Asgore’s smile. She stored that expression away as something to be explored later, when Sans was more...at home.

 

She moved around the table, pulling Sans up, out of his chair, and into her arms. One of her hands was hooked under his arm, wrapping around his small chest and cupping the other humerus, thumb stroking the clavicle. The other arm brushed the top of his head. His magic hiccuped, then eased back down as his body relaxed into the strokes. She smiled.

 

Across the table, Asgore watched hungrily. She gave him a look. He blushed, then stood, “I shall go start the car, shall I?”

 

“Yes, Gorey. Please, do. I shall just get Sans cleaned up, and we will be with you shortly.”

 

Asgore gave her a hurt look, but she smiled back, bringing her hand down from its task to cup Sans’ left arm. Asgore followed the movement, gulped, and scurried out the door. Poor dear, he really could not handle the sight of wounds of any sort. 

 

In her arms, Sans squirmed, trying to hop down, “uh, tor, you know i can handle getting changed by myself, right?”

 

She chuckled, “Of course, dearest skeleton. On the other  _ hand _ , you could use some help bandaging this injury of yours, could you not?”

 

He stiffened, then loosened, “oh, yeah. thanks.” 

 

His tone made her pause, “Sans, something about that bothers you, does it not?”

 

His energy dimmed, “it’s nothing, tor. don’t wanna be a nuisance.”

 

“Sans.”

 

He sighed, “...being doctored scares me. dunno why. i just...i feel like once i let it start it’s never gonna stop, y’know? i’ll be stuck in some stuffy room and no one will visit me except for the doctors, and then it’ll hurt, and i’ll get worse and the room gets stuffier and lonelier and-”

 

“Sans,” Her hand returned to the dome of his skull, pads tracing shapes on the smooth bone. Her heart ached as he shook, “It is fine to be afraid. It is fine to worry. It is fine for some tasks to be harder than others. What is not fine is leaving us out of the loop.”

 

She sent a hum through her own magic, reassuring and comforting, “I promise you that I will never leave you alone like that. I am certain that Asgore will feel the same. We will not let that happen to you, do you understand? If something I am about to do is going to hurt, I will let you know. I only want to put an ointment on your hand to keep your magic flowing freely, healthily, and pain-free through the joint until it heals.”

 

His magic and body tried to curl up and hide away. She nuzzled his forehead, “I promise, Sans. If you wish, I can go and retrieve my kit, and we can take a closer look outside, in the sun. Does that sound acceptable?”

 

“...don’t wanna be a bother...”

 

She kissed the bone. Blue spread out like liquid over glass, “You never will be. Come along, dearest skeleton. I am sure Asgore will enjoy having someone to keep him company while I look.”

 

* * *

 

The contrast between the inside and outside of this human mall had always surprised her. If one did not know what one was looking at, one might think it were another office building. Inside, colors, shapes, sounds, smells, and hundreds upon hundreds of people assaulted the mind. It seemed as though anything and everything a person could possibly imagine might be hiding within that dull brown exterior...including friends, it would seem.

 

Toriel giggled as she caught sight of a familiar towering skull peering out from behind a pop-up stand. It might have been a very pale human, of course. However, the confused rambling of the human running the cart seemed to confirm it. They were attempting to explain that, as much as they would like to help this customer, they did not think their hair-braiding stall could do much for someone who did not have hair. 

 

Poor Papyrus. It was not the first time he had followed someone like this, and every time had turned out much the same. Frisk had been amused during that first field trip. Their chaperones less so. Still, the dear monster continued to believe he was good at stealth, and who was she to contradict?

 

* * *

 

Toriel sat to one side of the changing booth neither she nor Asgore could fit in, smiling politely at the awestruck children walking past. Across her lap was a mountain of fabric, some neon bright, others calm and collected, all of it a rejected, crumpled pile of firm nope’s. Asgore was out on what was at the very least their twentieth trip in search of correctly sized clothing.

 

The first few shirts she had assumed were a fluke. The next dozen, she had suspected Sans was lying when he said none of them fit in an effort to spare her feelings. Then had come the turning point, a hilarious science pun she was sure he would find  _ humorous. _ The subsequent laughter did not prove her wrong.

 

It was the sudden cursing and bumping at the walls that clued her in. She had asked if he was okay, and he had responded with a pun. She had been reassured, until the banging resumed. After two minutes back and forth, Asgore had returned, and eventually the two of them had been forced to barge in anyway.

 

It seemed Sans, in his excitement and desperation, had gotten his skull trapped halfway through the hole of the shirt. It did not want to come down. It did not want to come back up. Sans had been too embarrassed to accept her help, and more than a little frustrated that everything they found either did not fit over his head or hung off him and exposed far too much ribcage. He wanted the shirts to work. He wanted this to be fun. He liked the shirts, and was annoyed that none of them seemed to like him back. 

 

So Sans had pulled and he pushed at that one stubborn shirt until the creak of protesting bone had forced Asgore to lift the door off its hinges. Very nicely, and with full intent to put them back, which he had done after they had gotten their silly skeleton out of the shirt. They had been forced to cut the shirt off, since, despite all logic, it had only grown smaller as they stretched it. Toriel feared Sans might wake up with some very strange bruising tomorrow. 

 

Still, the skeleton had been convinced to give up trying if he had to force a shirt onto his head, and let them see just how bad the others hung off him. She supposed that was a plus. It was rather cute watching him try to keep the collars from sliding down on his favorites. It was even harder to resist when that grip slipped. He really did have the most adorable bones.

 

* * *

 

Asgore patiently waited against one of the pylons for his wife to finish checking the map. Beside him, Sans tapped at his phone with his newest sci fi inspired stylus. Asgore had noticed Sans drooling after the quirky little device in the window of one of the shops earlier, and insisted they stop and buy it. Sans had tried to protest, but the look on his face when he held it in his hands betrayed him. 

 

They would have to work on that with Sans, it seemed. Splurging too often was bad, of course, but neither of them were hurting for funds. Sans put altogether too much effort into denying his own interests. It wasn’t healthy, and Asgore did not intend to stand for it. If that also meant spoiling Sans rotten, he would enjoy it all the more. 

 

Asgore blinked. Was that Papyrus’ head he had seen, towering over the crowd? Of course it wasn’t. What would Papyrus be doing here? Then the familiar head emerged once more, and Asgore sighed. 

 

Yes, that was Papyrus, bobbing up and down among the shorter humans, following someone. It would not be the first time. He really should convince Undyne to give the tall monster a few tips on trailing someone in a crowd of people shorter than you. It was something of a knack. He wondered who Sans’ brother was following now?

 

The skeleton’s skull swiveled. His eye sockets fixed on something. His entire frame stiffened, and his gaze darted back and forth, looking for a way out, passing right over Asgore and Sans. They landed on something, and the depths positively bulged. Asgore deftly scooped Sans out of the way of the rushing skeleton as Papyrus made a beeline for the wedding store they were resting by. Oh, was that what that was?

 

Sans blinked up at him, “hey gor. what’s the rush?”

 

Asgore smiled adoringly down, planting a kiss on Sans’ forehead. The skeleton squeaked, and he chuckled, “Nothing. Or perhaps I should say, nothing for me. I was not aware Papyrus had reentered the dating game.”

 

Sans smile dipped, “yeah. a couple of people have been taking him out lately. none of them clicked, but...well, you know. most of the monsters get it, but the humans have been all over the place.”

 

Asgore was confused. If that were so, then why had Papyrus...oh well. He supposed it did not matter. Perhaps Papyrus was shopping for a friend? He had heard that two of the former members of the Hotland Royal Guard were planning their marriage for the coming spring. It would not surprise him if Sans’ brother had volunteered to help. He was quite the enthusiastic young monster.

 

“Oh, there you two are! I did not keep you waiting too long, did I? The map was far more complicated than I had anticipated.”

 

Both their heads swiveled towards her, “nah, tor, we’re good. gave me just enough time to finish off a new sketch. i think this one’s a real  _ show stopper _ , heh heh heh. gotta be worthy of a five minute slot. at least, i think it is. at least...probably...”

 

Asgore dove into the silence before Sans could slip too far into the pit of self-doubt that his reception on the Surface always seemed to conjure up. He’d been trying to get bumped up to a regular slot at one of the clubs ever since they’d made it up here, and every time his acts had been rejected without any explanation whatsoever. It was hurting the short skeleton, and everyone knew it. He only wished he knew how to help. 

 

“You shall have to give us a sneak peak. I used to love going to see your shows in Hotland.”

 

Sans stared at him in disbelief, “you actually came? burgerpants told me the tickets i sent you never got used.”

 

Asgore looked sheepish, “I did try to use them. The monster at the doors would never let me finish. He insisted I could go in for free, on the house. Then during your visits, it never seemed quite the right time to bring them up. I believe I still have them, somewhere.”

 

Toriel took one look at their faces and guffawed, “Oh, my. You poor things. I- Goodness, I am sorry. It is just so amusing. You two- you two-”

 

She dissolved into another fit of laughter. He and Sans shared a confused look. Sans shrugged, “whatever floats yer  _ goat _ , tori.”

 

* * *

 

“okay guys. really? clothes i get, but this really doesn’t  _ suit _ me.”

 

Sans gestured at the unhemmed black material draped over him, pulling the pins at the shoulder joint out for the third time. Asgore snorted at the human’s thinly disguised annoyance. Tori only sighed.

 

Asgore looked at her and saw her patience for Sans’ puns, normally so high, was reaching its end. He remembered the many times Toriel had taken him to be measured for a suit. She’d never seemed to grasp that while she could stand for hours at a time being poked and prodded and encircled, undressed and redressed, hemmed, matched, and captured in a net of fabric and sharp pins, not everyone else could do the same. He decided that, as much as he enjoyed watching Toriel in action, Sans was neither deserving of nor prepared for one of her rants. Time to intervene.

 

“Sans!” He let a look of startlement cross his face, “I just realised - I know Papyrus has mentioned a collection of socks lying about the house. In fact, he’s seemed rather peeved about it.”

 

Sans chuckled, earning another glare from the tailor, “yup. don’t tell him this, but every month i rotate which sock gets to stay on the livingroom floor. can’t be favoring one piece over another, right?”

 

Asgore was not surprised. He had known of Sans almost unbreakable yearning for fairness and equality ever since the letter he had received from a young graduate, all those years ago. Sans had a way of seeing biases, injustices, and other problems clearly when no one else could. It had only grown stronger since, and was one of the things he admired most about the adorable skeleton.

 

He coughed politely, “Well, I do not know if you had noticed, but there is quite the array of dress socks here on display. I know you will need at least one pair to wear along with these suits, but perhaps we can find a set or two to add to your collection?”

 

Sans eyes lit up like stars - no, like the crystals in the caverns of Waterfall. The hint of blue was calming; it drew Asgore in like the smell of snail pie on a rainy day. Silver and purple made their appearances too, a kaleidoscope of colors like stoney mountains fading into dusk, always and forever comforting to him. They spoke of deep happiness and home...and if all that was inspired by the idea of socks, well, who was he to judge?

 

Asgore jolted out of his hypnotism as he remembered the plan. He set his paws on the arms of his chair, making as if he intended to stand, “Well, then, I shall just go and find a few, shall I?”

 

He did not even manage to draw a breath before Toriel was on her feet and moving, “No, Gorey. Let me do it, you never manage to find the right size, even for your own feet.”

 

“Is that so? Oh, dear. I suppose you should go, then. I shall wait here while this nice young human finishes measuring Sans.”

 

He smiled at Sans as Toriel’s footsteps faded into the front of the store. The skeleton’s expression of joy had hardly faded at all, although his head did have an inquiring tilt.

 

Asgore chuckled, “She has a greater patience for appointments like this than I, and I would be reaching my limit by now, just as you are. I thought you might appreciate not having her give you her disappointed frown.”

 

Sans expression faded. Asgore felt the slump in his magic, and hastily tried to rephrase, “You are doing an amazing job, Sans! These appointments do not normally last this long. Is that not so, human?”

 

The attendant looked up from their work to give a silent nod, pins sticking out of the corners of their mouth.

 

“You see? You are doing quite well. It is only that Toriel spent much of her childhood being measured for official robes and gowns, and she forgets that not every monster had the practice at that she did as a diplomat’s daughter.”

 

The look in Sans eye sockets did not return to it’s happy glimmer, nor to its usual amiable grin. Still, he was not tearing at himself like he had before, and that was what mattered. Perhaps he could do something more?

 

The human grabbed the bottom folds of the back of Sans’ jacket, and Asgore remembered his own first experience with the tailor’s arts, “Have I ever told you the story of the first time I got measured for a suit?”

 

Sans shook his head, and Asgore noticed the gleam of curiosity in the skeleton’s eye lights...and in the human’s brown orbs. With that kind of encouragement, who was he to deny?

 

“Well, as a child I was always too busy helping my father around the palace to join my mother at official events. I never needed a suit until I was thirty years old - perhaps twelve of your years, human. One of the human kingdoms was having a coronation, and we were close enough allies that we were invited. My father had a bit of a cold, and so my mother was in charge of the staff for the week. She never could organize them like he did. The servant she had sent to measure me was new, a young Whimsum girl who had never worked with someone who had a tail before. She kept forgetting it was there and pinning it to the coat…”

 

* * *

 

“Toriel, I do not know how to explain this…”

 

She looked up from her phone. Gorey’s face was a mixture of confusion, pleading, suspicion, apology, reluctance, and amusement. His eyes kept shifting over her shoulder, then back to her, then back to the scene behind her. 

 

She smiled, “You have noticed him then, have you not?”

 

Asgore’s mouth turned up at the corners in a sheepish grin, “Then I am not imagining it? I noticed him earlier today, too. I thought perhaps he was picking up a gift for someone. This, however-”

 

“Yes,” she chuckled, “Papyrus is a dear, isn’t he? I take it you or Sans mentioned to him we would be here today while I was getting the kit earlier?”

 

Asgore frowned, then laughed, “Ah, yes. Sans did send off more than a few messages. It would not surprise me if one went to his brother...Still, why this?”

 

Her claws tapped out a rhythm on the plastic table. The sounds of laughing children, gossiping teenagers, and hurried lunchers circled around the food court. 

 

Finally, her tapping stopped, “I am not certain, but I believe it is something like an urge to protect. Or perhaps it is curiosity? I do not believe Sans has gone on many dates, if any. Nor has Papyrus.”

 

Asgore coughed, “Oh. I am sorry, but there you are wrong. Papyrus has been on quite a few dates. He even dated Frisk, if I am not mistaken. Never for long. I think he wants to be in love, but does not know how.”

 

She frowned, “I see,” Slowly the smile crept back, “Ah, yes. That is much more likely.” 

 

Asgore tilted his head, and she explained, “He is both curious and protective, I believe. Curious to know how his brother acts on a date, and how his brother feels, because perhaps that might explain how he might feel love. Protective because as much as Papyrus wanted this to happen, he and his brother have not had anyone else for a very long time. He wants his brother to be happy, I am afraid. It can be quite the double-edged sword.”

 

Asgore’s worry eased, “Ah. I am glad our skeleton has someone out there who cares about him in that way...still, the holes he has cut into that newspaper are beginning to annoy me. They are not in the right places for him to see out. Do you think we should mention it?”

 

A thought occurred to her, and her brows drew together, “Yes. While we are there, perhaps we can inquire who it is who is watching Frisk while he is here.”

 

Asgore nodded, “They are resourceful, but the surface authorities do not seem to approve of children their age playing all alone.”

 

The two stood up, and made their way over to Papyrus’ table. The rustling of newsprint grew more and more pronounced the closer they came. It sunk back behind the table, and were she not so anxious about Frisk, Toriel would have felt rather sorry for the poor monster.

 

“Howdy, Papyrus. The mall is quite popular today, isn’t it?”

 

Papyrus’ skull rose from behind the paper like a Moldbygg out of a crouch, “GREETINGS, YOUR MAJESTIES. WHAT A SURPRISE. I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, DID NOT SEE YOU APPROACH. I WAS FAR TOO ENGROSSED IN...SOLVING THIS WEEK’S JUNIOR JUMBLE! YES! QUITE INGENIOUS, ISN’T IT?”

 

“It is indeed Papyrus,” She noted the flash of panic as his sockets fixed on something just beyond her shoulder. Ah. Sans must be returning with their food, must he not?

 

Asgore picked up the thread of conversation, “It is quite a coincidence, isn’t it, us running into each other here. Do you often drive out to the mall to solve these jumbles of yours?”

 

Toriel caught sight of him now, ambling through the crowd with five hot dogs tucked under his arm. Why five?

 

“YES, INDEED! I FIND IT...INVIGORATING! YES! THE CHALLENGE OF SOLVING THESE PUZZLES IN SUCH A BUSY, LOUD, DIRTY PLACE...IT IS ONLY FITTING OF A MONSTER AS GREAT AS ME TO TAKE ON SUCH A HANDICAP.”

 

Sans did not seem to be heading for their old table, nor towards them. His aim seemed to be further to the right of them, where one of the many potted plants in the room sat, staring. 

 

“That is very sporting of you, Papyrus.”

 

Sans had stopped just beside the short, dense plant. His smile widened, and his eyelights slid between the plant and them. He shrugged. It almost looked as though he were having a conversation with it.

 

“ISN’T IT? IT ONLY SEEMS- HUMAN! NO, WHY DID YOU BETRAY YOURSELF LIKE THIS?”

 

Toriel stared in confusion and awe as Sans stacked all five hot dogs on top of the plant. He turned to face them, eye sockets twinkling, “now, bro. you wouldn’t deny them this bit of nostalgia on a day like today, now, would you?”

 

From behind the plant, hot dogs remaining in a perfect stack, Frisk emerged. Toriel stared in distrust at the plant. How had she failed to notice the human behind it? Admittedly, its shape was rather conveniently similar to Frisk’s, but still. What kind of a mother was she?

 

Papyrus sighed theatrically, “I SUPPOSE I MUST. YOU TWO AND YOUR SHENANIGANS WILL FOREVER BE THE BANE OF MY EXISTENCE!”

 

Asgore looked between Papyrus, Frisk, the plant, Sans, the hot dogs, and her. His mouth moved silently. His brow furrowed in that earnest look of his, one of her favorites. Whenever he failed to follow a joke, or understand a subplot, or remember a name, there it was. 

 

“sorry, bro. maybe next time someone asks you not to come snooping, don’t bring the kid. i must have spotted them, what, a dozen times today? i thought you were better at this stuff, kid.”

 

Frisk turned to face him, deadpan. He grinned back, “seriously, kid. we gotta work on your stealth. can’t have the legendary fartmaster getting caught spying around, now, can we? maybe pap can help me  _ bone _ ya up on a few new tricks.”

 

They smiled and nodded. The hot dog stack collapsed, somehow scattering in exactly the right way so that every dog ended up neatly in front of a place at the table. 

 

Papyrus’ eyeballs bulged, “SANS!”

 

Their skeleton shrugged, “what can i say bro, i’m a  _ punny _ guy. you could say-”

 

“SANS.”

 

The smile grew wider, “that i’ve-”

 

“SANS!”

 

She, Gorey, and Frisk all covered their ears, “got it  _ in my bones _ .”

 

“SAAAAANNNSSS!!!!!”

 

* * *

 

Asgore slipped the string of yet another bag over his hand. Both he and Toriel had ignored Sans insistence that he carry some of their purchases. Not out of rudeness, mind you, but Sans had been bumping and banging his hand all day. Giving him a bag seemed like asking for him to hurt himself more, and that was something neither of them wanted. This was why Asgore was now holding 17 separate bags while Toriel finished checking out.

 

The bright-eyed cashier behind the desk, wearing a blue cabled sweater and khaki slacks, pulled off the next item to be scanned and gleamed, “Oh, you found our sweater vest collection! My son absolutely loved this year’s models. The colors match perfectly, the stitching is neat but still stretchy, and the wool blend isn’t nearly as itchy as the ones we had two years ago. Is this for your child?”

 

Asgore saw Sans’ smile tense, and drew in a breath to correct the mistake. He knew Sans had heard quite a lot of that on the surface. Apparently, the striped-shirt phenomena did not extend to their human neighbors. While Sans never seemed to take offence, Asgore had noted he never tried to correct the mistakes, either. No matter how common it was, something like that was bound to hurt. Asgore had determined that if he was around to defend the short skeleton, then he would, since Sans did not seem ready to do it himself.

 

His amazing wife beat him to it, “Oh, no. My child is still in stripes, after all. Moreover, Frisk is quite adamant that they will not wear clothing without sleeves, even in layers. No, this is for our boyfriend, Sans.” 

 

Empty sockets flickered between Toriel and the cashier. Asgore could feel the dread rolling off Sans, and moved a few steps closer to the skeleton, not entirely certain what the problem was, but ready to intervene.

 

The human glanced over at the two of them and waved, “Are those your boyfriends over there? I’m guessing the shorter one is the one these vest are for, although both of them look like a handful to fit. Don’t take this the wrong way, but the skeleton is such a cutie!”

 

Sans eye lights returned, uncertain...or perhaps stunned? Toriel noticed, and jumped on the chance to gush.

 

“He is, is he not? It is amazing how hard it has been to find decent clothing in his sizes, but he has been amazingly patient with us silly old goats today. He is the most thoughtful, kind, adorable monster you could imagine.”

 

Every adjective drove Sans’ shoulders an inch closer to his ears, until something snapped. His phalanges wrapped around the edges of his hood and threw it over his skull, pulling it down and huddling up.

 

“I am so sorry to hear that it’s been such a hassle! Clothes shopping can be tricky, I know, but it shouldn’t be that much of a problem. You haven’t been just looking in here, have you? We should have a better array of sizes than that. I’ll have to let the supplier know…”

 

Asgore smiled at the adorable display of shyness and resisting the urge to drop their purchases and scoop the monster up into a kiss.

 

“Oh no, the selection your store had in stock was wonderful. You not only had the correct sizes, but the colors are absolutely perfect. These blues match the shade of his blush exactly, and the grey of these slacks makes the white of his bones positively sparkle. It would not be too much of a bother to ask you to pass on my compliments to the designer, would it not? I do wish...”

 

Asgore’s smile flipped when Sans’ skull impacted with his ribs. His breath was ragged, his bones were shaking almost to the point of rattling, and the hold Sans’ right hand had on his shirt had quite a bit of fur mixed in. 

 

Asgore pitched his voice low, down to the monster huddled against him, quiet enough to go unheard by Toriel and the clerk, “Sans, what is wrong?”

 

The only response was a tighter grip. Asgore winced at the sting of tearing fur. The barest fraction of an HP ticked away. 

 

He sighed, and carefully leaned down until his muzzle could reach Sans’ head. He nuzzled in, comfort and affection radiating out. He’d never noticed, but Sans’ hoodie smelled wonderful, pine and typha and ketchup and cold dew on a starry night, so many scents mixed into one. 

 

He heard Toriel’s conversation winding to a close in the same moment he realised the growing damp patch on his shirt was probably skeleton tears. Why would Sans be crying, though? Everything Tori had said was true a hundred times over. Was it embarrassment that she was telling these things to a stranger? A human? But none of them were that intimate. Was it the aftermath of being mistaken for a child? No, he’d never seen Sans react like this. Was it…

 

“Oh dear. Was that too much Sans?” Toriel’s hand cradled Sans against her. He shook his head, then nodded. The shaking intensified, and Asgore gave Tori a helpless look. Her face eased, “Ah. I think I understand. Today has been quite the day, has it not? We have wrought quite a bit of change around you, and you are still healing, and then so many people and colors and clothes...the mall can be overwhelming, even at the best of times, can it not? And then my conversation with the cashier...I think it is time to head home, Gorey. Anything else can wait for another day. Our skeleton has reached the limit of how much input he can take in. Let us take him home to process in peace.”

 


	6. Museum

“red one. also blue. there's a really old white one - or maybe it's tan. a green one just pulling into the lot, too.”

 

Asgore absently rubbed at his arm while the sound of off-key singing washed over him. He stared out the window at the cars anxiously awaiting the change of the light. The remnants of rain dried out drop by drop on the car’s windows. The mottling they left behind had an interesting effect on the muted colors coming in. 

 

“Sans, I don’t believe that they count if they’re still at the dealership. At the very least they must have tags, if not license plates.”

 

“don’t remember frisk ever mentioning a rule like that.”

 

“I think that is because they did not expect any of us to move so close to the road of car salesmen. It is much to specialized a rule for them to remember off the top of their head.”

 

“you’re just jealous that i remembered the rules before you did.”

 

He sighed, and turned around. Sans’ grin was genuine. Clearly designed to annoy him, but genuine. At least the small skeleton was enjoying his little game enough to for his mood to have picked back up from the day before. Asgore smiled contentedly at the glint in those sockets, happily losing himself in the swirling darkness within those eyes.

 

The singing came to a glorious, abrupt halt. Toriel, eyes still working the road around them, didn’t see Asgore and Sans’ shared sigh. Her voice had a tint of mirth, “You could say he was  _ green _ with envy, could you not?”

 

Sans chuckled, “yup. being outdone is absolutely  _ driving _ him up the wall.”

 

Asgore sighed, coating over his happiness with a layer of annoyance, “Quite. I’m just a  _ stuffy _ old goat who deserves to be in a  _ museum _ .”

 

“Dreemur!” Belatedly, he remembered that their destination was supposed to be a surprised. Too late. 

 

Sans’ sockets crinkled in mirth, “ah, so that’s it. i was beginning to wonder. we passed grillby’s like ten minutes ago, and i was sure we were heading over for the sunday special. you really threw me for a  _ loop  _ there.”

 

Toriel’s guffaw overwhelmed her annoyance as the arrow finally went green and they turned left into the Large Park’s traffic loop. Asgore smiled too, wondering how much longer his wife had expected their small skeleton to remain ignorant. After all, there were only a handful of places the three of them could go from this street, and the city zoo was closed that week while a new sewage system was put in place. 

 

“We would not dream of keeping you  _ uninformed _ for long, Sans. You were certain to  _ learn _ eventually, were you not? After all, this is an institute of learning.”

 

“heh, yup. so, which wing is it today? not the scifi exhibit, please. going with frisk’s class two weeks ago was more than enough for me. they mixed up the names of the homeworlds of skywalker, atreides, and spock. such a crime can never be forgiven.”

 

The two of them chuckled, having heard this rant before. Sans had been livid that this organizers of this exhibit, which was currently traveling around the world, had not had the decency to double check their signage before sending it on its way.

 

“No, Sans. We would not make you suffer that again. We had thought perhaps the history wing, if you are interested, and then perhaps one of the IMAX shows later on.”

 

Sans’ gaze immediately went to one of the enormous banners draped across the front of the building. Galaxies, planets, and stars by the millions decorated its surface.

 

“really?”

 

“We would not tell you a  _ fibula _ , Sans.”

 

The quiet hum of Sans’ magic brightened. It was funny. Asgore had lived over a thousand years, and in that time had met hundreds of monsters. When he had met Sans in person for the first time, he had almost not realised the skeleton was there. Sans had either the quietest or the most well-hidden magic the king had ever seen. 

 

Over the years he had learned to tune into Sans’ power, and since they had come to the surface it had become easier and easier to do. Now, he rarely lost the thread, and hearing the subdued emotions pick up like that always made him smile. 

 

The fact that the skeleton’s big reaction was to the idea of seeing a show about the stars, and that that reaction had just won him a little bet with Toriel, obviously did not come into it.

 

* * *

 

She and Asgore their way out of their first stop of the day. As much as Asgore and Toriel had heard in their negotiations about the past 1030 odd years of human history, the picture they had received was contradictory and haphazard. The overview they had just seen, at the very least, gave them a place to start to investigate further. 

 

“I must say, humans seem to have come quite a long way since the war. A winding, faltering way, yes, but the progress they’ve made is very impressive. No wonder they produced a child like Frisk.”

 

Sans ambled out of the doorway behind them with an expression of mild shock, “i know frisk told me there were parts of human history where they weren’t even nice to each other, but some of that stuff is down- _ right _ unbelievable. did they really use to prevent non-male people from even getting a degree?”

 

Toriel sighed, “Unfortunately, yes. It was rather a surprise to hear that had changed. At the time of the war, female humans had hardly any official rights at all. In addition, the very concept that other genders even existed was utter blasphemy.”

 

“which god?”

 

Another sigh, because as simple of a question as that would be to any monster, the politics of the answer were rather depressing, “Most of them, I fear.”

 

Sans drooped. Asgore eyes moved between his face and her own, then drifted off in a desperate search of the museum’s signs. His gaze lit on something. He shifted his weight from his right foot to his left, nudging Sans gently in the direction of the stairs.

 

“Look over there! Toriel, it seems they have an exhibit on the plants of the Mt. Ebott subregion. what do you say to a bit of nostalgia?”

 

She and her longtime partner shared a look. Eventually, she gave in, “Very well, Dreemur. We shall go look at the plants.”

 

The way his cheeks pulled back into a delighted grin almost made up for the unending stream of plant facts she knew was about to endure. After Asgore had turned, she saw Sans’ right hand move in a blur that any monster alive would recognize as coming from Frisk.

 

- _ patella _ the truth, i haven’t had a chance to  _ root _ through some of my plant puns in more years than the snowdin trees have rings. what’d’ya say to a pun off? i won’t tell gori if you don’t.-

 

,Her face broke into a grin, and she responded in kind.

 

- _ Stem _ -thing tells me you have quite the  _ garden _ to pull from.-

 

At a tug from Asgore, Sans moved on, but tossed the next set of signs at her from behind his back.

 

-plant puns are where i got my  _ seed _ , tori. it’ll be nice to get back to my  _ roots _ .-

Cheeky boy. He had no idea what he had gotten himself into.

 

* * *

 

“Oh my, Sans. I am sorry. I assure you, I had no idea they had such things here.”

 

Toriel tried politely to avert her eyes. Fluffybuns appeared to be somewhat hypnotized by the things, his eyes practically bulging.

 

Sans, despite the posted signs, had once again pulled his phone out of his pocket. He had yet look up at the exhibit in this particular room. 

 

“what, did we run into yet another mislabeled sign? they should put up a warning label at this rate: ‘accurate signage not guarenteed.”

 

The short skeleton finally looked up from his phone. His expression didn’t flicker, “oh, is that it? they’re just skeletons tori. nothing new here, unless someone lost count and rounded up.”

 

Gori’s mouth, working in much the same manner as a fish, managed to find words before she herself had recovered from the shock. Perhaps not the most helpful, but still.

 

“Aren’t you...Sans, I...isn’t this...they don’t have any clothes.”

 

He ended with a note in his voice she remembered from quite a long time ago. 

 

> _ It had been the first time they had taken young Asriel to meet his kingdom. Of course, the first thing the toddler had done was spill sea tea all over his new robes. Then, for some reason unfathomable to his parents, he had decided to strip bare and run around flailing the soggy cloth like a flag. _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Gerson had been amused, and, after Asriel had been rounded up, proceeded to educate Asgore as to the ways of toddlers by sharing an almost identical story about the first time he had babysat for Asgore himself. The then-queen had reacted in much the same manner as Asgore did, and had it not been for his father, he might have had an earlier introduction to her famous sense of justice than he in fact did. _

 

Sans, in the present, blinked, “well yeah. makes it easier to see the vertebrae.”

 

Finally, Toriel found her voice, “Still, Sans. This is rather...lewd, is it not?”

 

He tilted his skull at her, “um, no? they’re not alive, tori. anyway, they’re human. if some dead human wants to spend their time going  _ bare bones _ in a dusty display case, i ain’t gonna judge.”

 

The two royal goatnesses wallowed in mutual confusion, “But…”

 

Sans sighed, tucking his phone back into his pocket. His right hand found the edge of the bandage on his left and fiddled with it as he spoke.

 

“look, guys. it’s...weird, yeah, but not gross or anything. you saw those paintings a few rooms back, right? if humans can put up with seeing pictures of their own, flesh-wrapped species like that in here, i can put up with a few naked pelvic regions. and, again, it’s not like they’re monster skeletons. there’s enough of a difference that it ain’t too bad.”

 

His sockets had swiveled slowly over and now faced the glass-encased display directly. His tone grew more thoughtful.

 

“they’re not that ugly, either. not like me, anyway. they’re tall. got proper, straight spinal columns. the ribs are nicely spread. good ratios of leg to torso, too. i can get admiring skeletons like these.”

 

As the speech tapered off, Toriel heard the note of envy and dismay enter his voice. Her mind instantly derailed from its ‘This is insensitive, I must fix this’ train of thought and switched over to another. Her eyes gleamed red, and she could not help but feel a certain amount of pride at the speed with which Asgore pulled himself up.

 

“That is a blatant lie, Sans.”

 

Their skeleton gave her a look of weary dissent, so she pressed on, “While I admit that your analysis of their place in this museum is kinder, and less biased, than mine might be, I must disagree with you about the aesthetics. Their heights are almost strained, are they not? One feels that there is not nearly enough bone to justify that amount of verticality.”

 

Sans’ eye lights had shrunk. Asgore, contemplating the exhibit with a more critical eye, pondered aloud, “The spines are too straight to be healthy. They would not give an inch, I think. The poor soul would be stuck at permanent attention. The ribs are too gapy, too. I would worry about something poking through, like a door handle or a spear. That spine wouldn’t let them dodge at all. They would have no option but to stand there and wait until help could arrive.”

 

Sans turned to the inanimate skeletons with an air of great distrust. His focus shifted around, stopping at every joint and section of cartilage.

 

Toriel hummed thoughtfully, “In truth, the shapes of their skulls are rather lackluster, wouldn’t you agree, Gori?”

 

“Why, yes. They haven’t much emotion or animation, do they? Even if they could move. And those sockets are so small, too. I wonder how they would be able to see?”

Sans’ hand had moved to rub at the rounded curves of his own skull. She padded over, Asgore mirroring her movements. She pulled Sans into a hug.

 

Asgore knelt down and whispered against Sans’ skull, “We could very well go on for days, you adorable monster. None of those skeletons hold so much as a spark to the supernova that is you.”

 

She felt their skeleton start shaking in her arms and went to move away. A tight grip on her dress held her back, and she surrendered. The three of them stayed there with her and Gori forming an almost perfect shield around the trembling skeleton until the tremors abated and Sans spoke.

 

“i, um...guess i was being a bit of a  _ bonehead _ there, huh?”

 

She hummed and held him tighter, “No, my dearest skeleton. You were merely being you.”

 

She nuzzled down on the top of his head and did not let him go until Gori pointed out to her that if they did not leave soon, they would miss their show.

 

* * *

 

“-and did you see that third shot of ngc 1952? that had to have been a hydrogen-alpha filter, but the detail on it - i can’t believe it! getting a shot like that they had to have used an observatory. no way a backyard telescope would have picked up the shading on the lower right dust clouds, least ways not that well. wonder who shot it? d’ya think they might have someone who would know?”

 

Asgore planted a kiss atop the skeleton’s skull as they made their way up the stairs.

 

“It would not hurt to ask.”

 

Sans stopped so suddenly asgore nearly knocked him over, “heh. you’re right. why- i can - i-”

 

The lack of motion ended without any warning. Sans went from worryingly still to bounding up the stairs two at a time. He hollered back at them, “i’ll be right back. meet you by the m-k-raptor skeleton, kay? bye!”

 

The two Boss Monsters watched his retreating form vanish around the curve of the stairs with glowing cheeks.

 

“Do you think he is aware that his eye lights are currently shaped into glowing blue stars?”

 

Asgore chuckled, “No, I don’t believe he is. I’ve never seen him this excited before in his life.”

 

Toriel’s smile slowly faded into a frown. His mind caught up with his mouth, and the implication of that sentence hit him like a train.

 

“Asgore-”

 

“Tori-”

 

Their nostrils flared, then softened. Their intentions synced beautifully, the separate fields of their magics intersecting and merging, every wave amplifying the next.

 

“Do you think it would be too much of a bother for you to pamper our newest partner for the next few days? I believe I have a bit of research to do.”

 

He saw her lips pull back in something closely resembling a smile, but without any of the warmth.

 

“Of course, my dear. Only as long as you promise to let me have a turn, supposing what we suspect to be true is indeed so.”

 

He knew his expression matched her own.

 

“I would not dream of doing it any other way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as usual with this fic, it may be ages before it gets updated again, or not. Life is overpowering. Hopefully it won't be more than a month, since my semester ends in three weeks. 
> 
> The lengths on these chapters are whatever they want to be, I have given up any and all control.
> 
> Also, have a chapter title. Why not?


	7. Chapter 7

“uh...what’s all this, tori?”

 

She turned her face from the sink and giggled at the stunned expression on Sans’ face. His gaze washed over the bowls of spices scattered around the kitchen. Garlic powder, onion powder, mustard powder, celery salt, pepper, cloves, vinegar and sugar; all laid out and ready to be mixed. 

 

The skeleton rubbed his eye sockets. He blinked, then tilted his skull at her, no doubt trying to figure out what recipe all these ingredients had in common...or, knowing him, wondering when the food would be ready. Sans was not known for his abilities as a chef.

 

She nodded at the apron hanging off the dining room chair and turned back to her work. Peeling tomatoes, while not the most arduous task, certainly involved a lot of squish. 

 

“Gorey got called into work unexpectedly, and since it seemed we would have the day all to ourselves, I thought it would be an excellent time to try out this recipe. One of Roger’s fathers from the PTA recommended it to me. He said it was the greatest homemade ketchup sauce he’d ever had the honor to taste.”

 

“terrance said that?”

 

She nodded, hearing the rustling of cloth as he wrestled with the apron, “Indeed. Such high praise comes once in a thousand years.”

 

“yup. don’t think i’ve ever met anyone, monster or human, with such a  _ powder- _ ful sense of taste.”

 

She chortled, “I rather think you have hit the nose on the  _ onion _ .”

 

Dead silence. The monster behind her radiated confusion. She was beginning to pick up on his magic more and more of the time. The way he hid it almost reminded her of something...she would have to think about that later.

 

Without looking back, she gestured at the bowl of onion powder. A few seconds later, Sans’ sneezed. 

 

It was an adorable sneeze. It was a cute sneeze. It was a small sneeze trapped in a large skull. It was a high-pitched, diminutive little button of a sneeze. It made her want to coo.

 

Toriel set the last, peeled tomato down into the tureen with the slightest splat. She rinsed her hands in the icy water, switched it off, and dried them on the hand towel. Then she spun, leapt, and hugged.

 

Sans’ right arm, lifted to wipe at his nasal cavity, was trapped between his skull and her bosom. She nuzzled into him, cooing and rumbling and generally making herself look like a fool. But honestly, who could resist a sneeze like that?

 

* * *

 

Asgore sat at his desk in the embassy. The rhythmic clack clack clack of typing melded nicely with the bubbling of the coffee machine. Monsters and humans of all sizes and descriptions chatted merrily. Their last big bill had come through on Friday, so today was a little bit of a celebration. At the very least, none of the paperwork on his desk was needed signed immediately.

 

In fact, the notebook in front of him had nothing to do with Monster-Human relations. It was brand new, a little blue spiral-bound with daisies in the margins. Undyne had gotten it for him to plan his gardens in. Instead, it was being used to plan an investigation. The investigation into the childhood of a certain small skeleton.

 

He had started out with the basic facts. He knew Sans’ brother was Papyrus. As far as family members went, that was all he could remember. He knew there were quite a few skeleton families who’d been living in the Capitol, so perhaps calling some of them would be a good way to start? Then again, he needed a better description of the two if he was going to be asking questions.

 

Let’s see; he knew Sans had graduated from the high school in Snowdin. That meant they probably had relatives or family friends they’d stayed with out there. He’d have to ask Grillby. The old flame had been living and working their for as long as the town had existed. Asgore recalled Sans’ fondness for the new Grillby’s, and made that phone call a top priority. 

 

Sans’ birthday was...he flipped through the calender with growing confusion. He sent a text to Tori, and she came up with the same result - nothing. Neither of them had any idea when Sans’ birthday could be. Or Papyrus’, for that matter. He made a note to ask Sans why they hadn’t celebrated the skeleton brothers’ birthdays since they had come to the Surface. Of course, it had not been a full year, so perhaps their birthdays had not arrived yet. That seemed more likely.

 

How old were they? Papyrus had been trying to be in the Royal Guard in the Underground. Skeletons aged at a rate of about 15 years to every human one, so the youngest age he would have been able to join was - Asgore opened a drawer and retrieved a calculator - 270. Sans seemed quite a bit older than his brother, so logically he was more than 330.

 

Logically only got him so far when faced with the real possibility that one or both of them had been neglected emotionally, if not in other ways. If not worse.

 

He shook his head and turned to a new page. Thinking about what could be would get him nowhere. What he needed was a place to start. He wrote down a list of names, people who might have a few more leads than he did. It read as follows:

 

> Grillby (Snowdin?)
> 
> Undyne (Sentries - age, birthdays, and medical history?)
> 
> Skeleton Families (Parents? Lost/orphaned/runaways?)
> 
> Gerson (had to get to snowdin somehow - memories?)

 

Well, he knew where he was going to start. Gerson was standing not ten feet away, chatting with one of Aaron’s cousins and no thirsty enough for a nice cup of tea.

 

* * *

 

Toriel helped Sans settle in the back seat, securing his seat belt before closing the door and settling into the front seat. It was a mild nuisance, these weight laws. Sans was a fully grown adult, and with only the two of them in the car, why should he not sit up front where he could see? But rules were rules, and they must follow them, or where would they be?

 

She finished adjusting the rearview mirror and reached for the radio. She went to turn the dial., then reconsidered.

 

“Sans, I do not believe I have ever enquired as to your favorite music. What shall it be?”

 

“oh, you know me, tori. anything’s good.”

 

She turned and gave him The Look. His eye lights shrunk to pinpricks, and his right hand dug up a ragged thread from the bandage on his left.

 

“Sans the Skeleton, I would be remiss in my duties as a datefriend if I could not name your favorite music off the top of my head. So please, tell me.”

 

He sighed, “really, tori. i’m okay with anything, as long as it has a beat,” The look didn’t quell, and he reluctantly added, “i ain’t that  _ driven  _ when it comes to music while you  _ drive _ . druther hear it live, or at least be able to play. don’t  _ treble _ about me, i can listen to  _ bass _ -ically anything and be okay.”

 

She cocked her head, “What do you play?”

 

He shrugged, snapping the thread, “trom- _ bone _ .”

 

She snorted, “I should have expected that, should I  _ note _ ? You shall have to play for us sometime.”

 

His eye lights shifted beneath hers.

 

“no.”

 

Her brow furrowed, “I am sorry?”

 

“no, tori. i can’t.”

 

She reached for her seatbelt, ready to cuddle him again. He waved his hand.

 

“it’s not that i think i’m bad or anything! i just...i didn’t realise how much that car of pap’s was gonna cost. it was an old thing, carved ‘special for some human and everything. they offered a lot, and it’s not like i got much use outta the thing, anyway, so…”

 

His voice trailed away. She searched his skull, and saw the emotion there. No musician was happy to part with their instrument. Despite what he said, Sans missed being able to play. She scrapped her plans of taking him to a comedy skit and readied her GPS for a new course.

 

“Which shop is it in?”

 

He looked up at her with dejection, “tori, i sold it months ago. there’s no way it’s still there.”

 

She grinned at him, “Then we shall have to track it down, will we not?”

 

In the depths of his eyes, she saw the glimmer of starlight, “really?”

 

She nodded vigorously, “Really.”

 

* * *

 

“Skeleton kids? Funny you should mention that. I was just talking to Aarvy over there about one of the more water locked rooms in Waterfall. He’s got a friend back in the Underground who thought it looked like a nice place to move in. She found an odd message in the echo flower there, something about too much responsibility. And some kind of pastry thing tucked under the seat, too.” 

 

Asgore poured his longtime friend and former Captain another cup of tea. He knew Gerson could go on in one of his stories for ages, but sooner or later he always reached the core of the things. All Asgore had to do was be patient and keep the turtles cup filled with tea.

 

“It made me think of a pair of younguns, oh, more than a hundred, hundred fifty years ago now. Thought they were twins, but I could be wrong. One of them was having a hard time walking. Kept trying to lead the other away, even if they kept tripping over their own feet. Thought about asking them to let me call their families, but the healthier of the two picked up the other and scurried away before I could get out my front door. Didn’t see them again, so I figured they’d found a home somewhere, wah ha ha!”

 

Asgore set his own cup down thoughtfully.

 

“And you believe these two could have been skeletons?”

 

Gerson winked, “Had to be. Had some ratty cloaks on, of course, but I remember seeing bone, and there’s nothing quite as white as a skeleton’s bones. Rattling, too, now I come to think of it. Scared little things, to be rattling like that. Wonder what made them fret that way? Speaking of fret, old Mettaclunk or whatever his name is hired this new human to back up his songs. I’ve got to say...”

 

Asgore let the conversation drift onto other things, letting the image Gerson had just set in his mind simmer to be worried over another day.

 

* * *

 

Toriel ducked under the lintel of the thirteenth musical instrument store they had visited that day. Sans had been right that his trombone would not longer be in the same store. 

 

Unfortunately, instead of being sold to a new owner who could possibly be persuaded to part with it, the store itself had gone out of business. Its stock had be auctioned off to every other music store in the area. 

 

The auction house in question had lost their records in a fire, so all the pair had been able to learn was that the instrument was probably in another store, unless it had been sold off from there. 

 

So far, none of the stores they had visited had seen the trombone, or any trombone in the last three months. Apparently trombones were not as much of a high-turnover instrument in this city as the violin or guitar. 

 

“Danny’s Music Supply, what can I do ya for?”

 

The longest haired human she had ever seen ambled up from behind a standing bass. The smell of brass polish hit her in a wave. She blinked back tears and fought back the urge to gag.

 

Sans stepped up from behind her, weariness in his gait but a glint in his sockets.

 

“hey, you wouldn’t have seen a trombone in here lately, would you? bach 42b, orange tint, worn out engraving on the bell and slide? would have come from pearson and lash.”

 

The cashier whistled. They weren’t the first. Sans hadn’t known, but the trombone he’d picked up out of a battered case in the Garbage Dump was rather expensive in the human’s market. The shop he’d sold it to had undercut the lowest going price by half.

 

“That piece be a thing of beauty, no doubt about it. got me mighty curious how old pearson and lash got their mits on it. them boys had the lowest end market of the entire beat. take it they swindled you out of the true cash?”

 

Sans pulled his right hand out his pocket and passed over the receipt. The man whistled again.

 

“Yep, that what it be. Hate to tell you, but you got fleeced. That darling’s going for a thousand, easy. Not that I’d put a price tag on a glory like that. Come on back, I was just given her a shine. Bet she’ll be happy as can be to see a familiar face.”

 

Her eyes bulged, and she felt the stir of Sans’ magic do the same.

 

“she’s actually here?”

 

The man had a smile to rival Sans’ own.

 

“Yes indeedy. Got a feeling the minute I saw her. I said to me, ‘That be a thing of beauty. Ain’t no way she went to them boys under an honest word. Her owner’ll be coming back, right as rain,’ and you know what? There’s nothing I like more to see than an instrument and their musician back in proper arms. Not much money in it, but the smiles I get are worth more than the Crown Jewels. I said, ‘I’m gonna take this lady and keep her safe, ‘cause I know t’won’t be long till that smile’ll be shining in front of me,’ And look at that - here you be.”

 

She let the tears fall freely now. Here was a SOUL as kind as any she had ever seen. If there were any music shop in the world she would want an instrument to make a stay in, this was it. 

 

Sans, in front of her, sniffed. She felt his magic fight to hold back tears. It made her pause. Humans, it seemed, had something of a stigma against open weeping. Monsterkind had no such idea, and so the practiced way in which the small skeleton hid away his emotions felt...weird. It was not out of keeping with the quietness of presence she had come to know, but it was entirely out of keeping with their culture as a whole.

 

As Sans followed the shopkeeper back behind the counter, she pulled out her phone and sent a message to Asgore. Yet another piece in the puzzle of their skeleton’s past.


	8. Amusement Park

“Welcome to the East Slope Amusement Park, an exciting adventure for humans and monsters of all ages. Would you like to indulge in one of our family packs? 10 tickets to be used for anyone in the next six months, as well as some discount coupons for our food courts and carnival games. All this for the same price as two adult tickets and four for the kids.”

 

Toriel stared at the pimple-covered human with a look of surprise. She would have thought that, at some point in the extensive speech, they would have had to blink. She would have thought, at some point, they might have had to breathe. Above all else, she would have thought they would have had at least one change in their inflection during the speech. Apparently not.

 

“The family pack, if you please.”

 

The human’s blank gaze didn’t waver, “Sure thing. Let me grab a pack from the back. It should only take a moment.”

 

She nodded, and the cashier carefully stood. They walked back to a door marked ‘Staff Only’ and went inside. Not two seconds later her sensitive ears overheard the sounds of a muffled scream.

 

“Oh, dear. I believe I may have frightened the poor thing. Do you think it would be too much if I apologize when they come back?”

 

Sans looked up from where he, Frisk, Papyrus, and a young monster known as MK had been deliberating over the park map.

 

“if you did, tor, you’d probably make it worse. frisk says they’ve met that human before, with asgore. seems somewhere along the line he had a bad encounter with a herd of goats. just act like nothing happened, and let him be.”

 

Behind him, Frisk signed a confirmation and an additional detail that warmed her heart.

 

-He came into the embassy with an injured Moldbygg some bullies had been harassing. He just wanted to help and ended up passing out because Goat-Dad offered him a cup of tea.-

 

Toriel wiped away a tear and composed her face before the traumatized cashier settled himself back in the chair at the counter. She could hardly make out any kind of shake in their hands as they set the brightly colored stack of cardboard on the table.

 

“Now, will that be cash or credit?”

 

* * *

 

The sun, high overhead and almost as warm as Grillby’s, beat down on the amusement park without favor or mercy. Papyrus had long since taken both of the overheating children up onto his shoulders. Keeping them balanced in the jostling, dirty throng was a task worthy of his greatness! If only they could find the water rides. Or a food dispensary. 

 

“are you sure it’s not this way?”

 

“The sign said the food court was forward, not right. Is there a new sign somewhere that I have not seen?”

 

MK sighed against Papyrus’ head. He patted the child’s legs consolingly. Such patience in the face of adversary as his young fan was showing deserved a better reward than more arguing. 

 

“no, but the map has a path behind the slingshot and up through the carousel garden that dumps us  _ right _ there, and that’s the slingshot over there on the  _ right _ , so if i’m  _ right _ then we should take this path.”

 

“Repeating the same word in different contexts does not make it a pun. It only annoys.”

 

“so does linda’s fake tan, but you don’t see me doing anything about that, do you?”

 

Frisk tapped Papyrus’ skull urgently. He walked over to a bench and set them down to speak. Toriel and Sans had stopped to argue over the conflicting directions and didn’t notice.

 

-I saw a big splash on the next row over! There’s a path going in the right direction up ahead. Can we get them to take it?-

 

“I DON’T THINK A SUGGESTION FROM US IS GOING TO BE HEARD.”

 

MK got an interesting gleam in their eye, “What about bait? I could go run ahead and make them chase me.”

 

Papyrus paused. That plan had all the components of a great jape! There was only one problem.

 

“BUT YOU ARE ON MY SHOULDER. WHAT WOULD THEY THINK OF MY SKILLS AS AN UNCLE IF I LET YOU DOWN ONLY FOR YOU TO RUN AWAY?”

 

Frisk waved violently.

 

-Put me back up, and then you run! Pretend you saw the Annoying Dog, and decided to chase it. I’m sure he won’t mind.-

 

He gleamed, “I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, APPROVE OF THIS STRATEGY! LET US COMMENCE!”

 

He hoisted the human back onto his shoulder and pretended to survey the scene. A flash of white made him freeze. There, lounging smugly on a bench just ahead, was the dog in question. He even had a pink bikini strapped to his body. MK giggled, and Frisk shook with silent laughs.

 

His voice boomed across the park, “NYEH!!!!! SANS, THAT IRRITATING CANINE IS MOCKING ME AGAIN! QUICK, HUMAN, MK, WE MUST GIVE CHASE!”

 

He sped through the startled crowd, leaving both Toriel and Sans in his dust.

 

* * *

 

“Do you believe he is aware that we overheard the entire plan?”

 

Sans grinned up at her, relaxed and amused. The two of them ambled along the cobbled path in the wake of the speeding skeleton. Papyrus had not caught the Annoying Dog yet, and their hurrying was unlikely to change this.

 

“nope. funny thing is, that dog was actually waving to the kid when they started. i wonder if he’ll realise he just got played.”

 

She put a paw to her mouth in fake astonishment, “Sans! That is a very rude accusation to make of our Ambassador. Surely you do not think they would stoop so low?”

 

He chuckled, “tori, frisk got past mettaton in their ‘final episode showdown’ by telling him there was a mirror behind him so he’d turn and they could flip his switch. they’d stoop that low and lower if they thought it was needed.”

 

She giggled, “Oh, dear. I am afraid I have not heard about that one yet. You told me about the cooking episode, and the news report. Was this before or after those?”

 

He moved a little bit closer. The sleeves of his t-shirt just brushed against her elbow as they walked under the “Water Section” sign and on towards the changing rooms, where Frisk, Papyrus, and MK were no doubt peeling off their outerwear to reveal the swimsuits beneath.

 

“after, definitely. there was a musical and a tile puzzle after those two, then the core. anyway frisk got to this room - very different design than what they’d seen so far. they walk in, and there’s mtt in his box form, only no one had seen his other form yet…”

 

* * *

 

“Ooh! Look, Sans! It is a snail! A plush snail! I do not believe I have ever seen one before.”

 

She watched Sans finish retying MK’s shoe for them before following her pointing finger. The plush was hanging from the top tier of a dart-throwing game. Multiple targets popped up and down in the fading sun. The unblemished paint and irregular motion made it likely that this was one of the less honest stalls, and one of the more successful at keeping its wares. 

 

She sighed. It was too bad the plush was not at one of the more fair booths at the fair. Oh my! She had to tell Sans that one! She turned to him...to where her adorable skeleton had once been. MK blinked back at her with a sheepish grin.

 

“Hey Miss Tori! Something you need?”

 

“Sans was just here, was he not?”

 

The young monster nodded, allaying her worries that her nearly twelve-hundreds years were finally catching up with her.

 

“Yeah! He tied my shoes for me, which was really nice ‘cause I can’t! Then he went over to the game. I think he’s trying to win something, but I don’t think that game’s designed well. I saw a couple earlier throwing darts for ten minutes without hitting anything!”

 

“Oh, dear,” Toriel turned quickly, ready to divert Sans attention away from the game he was…

 

Winning? Her jaw hung slack at the sight before her. Every target, which seconds before had been unmarred and clean, was now pierced through the center by a single dart. In the farthest row, one of the targets was jammed, motor sparking, because the dart had been thrown with perfect timing so that its fletching snagged against the cheerful border and prevented the target from moving. This, in addition to the fact that the target was pierced dead center. She could not believe her eyes.

 

The stall’s owner did not seem to believe his either. He was red in the face, gesticulating wildly at his booth and the targets while Sans calmly stood by. The skeleton’s hands were shoved in his pockets, and she was glad she had asked the tailors to reinforce the silhouettes of all his new garments. The gorgeous, extra-long windbreaker made his previously hidden hourglass figure shine. She did not want to have it ruined anytime soon.

 

She started when Sans broke his pose to point lazily up at the plush snail. The owner’s furious face froze. It slipped into incredulity. He pointed at the toy, clearly doubting Sans choice. Her skeleton shrugged and waved over his shoulder at her. The owner followed the motion and caught sight of her.

 

The speed with which he retrieved a step-ladder and unhooked the plush was commendably quick. She ignored the glee at knowing that more than a little of it was caused by her fanged grin. Sans took the shoved toy gracefully. He nodded to the stall manager as the man turned back to his targets, his whole body radiating “grumble” even more than the monster known as Burgerpants. 

 

Her skeleton shrugged and pivoted, plodding back over to them with a cheerful grin on his face. The plush was nearly as big as he was, and the plastic bag it was in kept slipping against the slick of his jacket. She bent quickly the moment he was in reach, taking the prize with one hand and pulling him into a kiss with the other. 

 

The cold of his blush was tantalisingly sweet in the stifling heat of the afternoon, “i take it i did good?”

 

Toriel smirked down at him, “More than merely good, my dearest skeleton. I do not think the stall owner’s ego will recover for a fortnight! You not only did this for me, but ‘knocked him down to size’ in the process - that is the phrase, it is not?”

 

He chuckled, pushing at her as his blush spread, “yeah, tori, that’s it.”

 

She nuzzled him shameless. The chill of his skull felt marvelous against her fur, as did the rasp of his bone. She’d noticed his ‘skin’ was rougher than his brother’s. Papyrus took great pains with his gloves and his body suit, and the resulting bone was quite smooth. Something about the sound of her courser fur scritching across Sans made her shiver. 

 

He was shivering too. For Sans, that was worrying. It was not cold, nor was it hot. He did not feel worried, and he had not acted feverish. Was he- yes. He was definitely excited. She could not mistake that feeling. Perhaps now would be a good time to get Sans home for a little pampering of a different sort. Not too much, yet, although cuddling and kisses could definitely be arranged.

 

She raised her voice ever so slightly, pitching it over the crowd just enough to reach her scattered party, “Alright, everyone. I am afraid to say I have had enough of the crowds for one day. Papyrus, I am entrusting you to show MK and Frisk a good time for the rest of their day. Do not let yourselves get overheated. Drink plenty of fluids, and do not stay too long and exhaust yourselves! Also-”

 

“NEVER FEAR, YOUR MAJESTY! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM MORE THAN CAPABLE OF THIS TASK! YOU COULD SAY I WAS...UM...WELL, I SHALL GLADLY ACCEPT THIS CHALLENGE!”

 

She smiled at him. Interruption aside, he did have a point. He had even insisted on driving his own car to this event. She would not be surprised if he had intended to suggest the two of them leave early all along. It would certainly be like him.

 

Toriel nodded to the tall monster, shifting Sans up higher into her arms and securing her grip on the snail’s bag, before turning back towards the entrance. Every step of the way back to her van was filled with nuzzles and praises. She was happy to see that, even in that somewhat extended distance, Sans’ blush had continued to spread without any sign of overloading him. It boded well for a future in which constant affection would play a large, and not exhausting, role.


	9. Alphyne on the Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long. A whole bunch of things hit me at once, and kinda knocked me for a loop. I'm doing better now, and should continue to do so -maybe hopefully that would be nice yes. But I finally have the energy and mental space to write! Yay!
> 
> So here, have a chapter. I have no idea when the next one will come, but hopefully soon. I've had it half written forever, and now it's done and waaaaayyy too long, but meh.

“Oh dear. Was it the 3rd Avenue entrance they closed for construction or the 7th?”

 

Asgore tapped a little rhythm on the steering wheel. He peered around the large SUV in front of him at the light. The repairs to the exterior of the Ebott Central Station were long delayed, but made driving and parking downtown an exercise in patience. Humans and Monsters alike were failing to keep their cool under the pressure. He was somewhat regretting his offer to pick up the girls. 

 

Of course, he hadn’t considered the mess of traffic when Alphys and Undyne had video called him last night. They’d been so exhausted after the first gruelling two days of the international conference on the principles of programming languages. The unexpected cancellation of the next three days of the events had been both a surprise and a relief. Finding a nonstop flight home had proved to be impossible, so the two wanderers would be spending most of the day napping before their welcome home dinner.

 

At least Alphys had gotten to give her keynote speech on LeySync, the programming language she had invented to interface between magic and electronics. Undyne’s help in providing the power source for an on the spot demonstration had had the entire conference on its feet. Even if the third day panel on monsterkind’s place in STEM fields hadn’t happened, the conference had still done a lot for their reputation and image.

 

Finally, the light turned, and Asgore maneuvered his sedan into the righthand lane. He saw no signs for construction on this block, so he decided the construction was on 7th after all. A few moments later, and he proved to be right. The parking structure for the train station even had an open spot on the topmost floor near the elevators! Today was working out quite nicely.

 

* * *

 

“AFFECTION SUPLEX!” 

 

The words were the only warning he got before Undyne, former Captain of the Royal Guard and the monster he secretly considered his unofficial daughter, launched herself at his back and wrapped her arms around him. He quickly cast a blue attack on himself, having learned the hard way that not only was she capable of lifting him off his feet, but she would do so regardless of how low the ceiling was where he was standing. 

 

“Aw, no fair!”

 

He brushed an affectionate waft of magic towards her. She noogied him back.

 

“Howdy, Undyne. I would say it was nice to see you again, but you know how it is. I cannot see someone who is hugging me from behind.”

 

The weight dropped off his back with a thud. He released the integrity spell immediately, since that kind of magic was not the most natural to him. Undyne stomped her way around to his side and punched his arm, laughing.

 

“One of these days I’ll catch you slacking off and suplex the HECK out of you!”

 

He rumbled her hair, making her face fins puff out with annoyance, “Yes, yes you will.”

 

“DA- I mean, Asgore! Don’t mess with my hair like that!”

 

He grinned down at her, “I am sorry, do you mean like this?”

 

He rumbled it again, and she smacked his arm away, “YES!!!”

 

“U-u-undyne, maybe you shouldn’t, uh, smack the king?”

 

Both he and Undyne turned towards Alphys. She was leaning against a luggage cart, her scales drooping and dull. Asgore immediately decided that getting her the portable hot blanket he had found at the mall was not an indulgence, but a necessity. She did not look like the climate of Norway had agreed with her, summer or no summer.

 

Undyne tilted her head, “Why not? He started it!”

 

Alphys gave him a helpless look. He only chuckled.

 

“Undyne, there’s no court of law I know of that would accept that argument as fact. You attempted to suplex me, not only today but the very first time you met me, as well. I’m afraid you should limit your affection suplexes to more...private settings.”

 

She looked between her girlfriend and him. Finally she groaned, her fins folding back and her head tilting up towards the ceiling. 

 

“FINE!!! Party poopers. Let’s just get in the car so we can go already!”

 

She stomped off towards the parkings structure, grabbing the luggage cart and dragging it along behind her. Asgore and Alphys shared an amused look.

 

He coughed, then spoke politely, “Doctor Alphys. I hope your flights were not too cramped? Was train ride here was smooth? I have heard that the suspension setups on these new trains are quite amenable.”

 

She smiled tiredly at him, “Um, yeah. The flights were...well, they w-w-weren’t awful? And the train was fine. TBH I fell asleep, so...um, yeah. I didn’t notice. But I guess that means the susp-p-pension was good? I’ll have to look into that…”

 

He held out an arm, and she leaned on it. If he had not thought it would embarrass her, he would have offered to carry her. Her magic was very worn, and he hoped the university hadn’t scheduled anything too drastic for her this next week. She needed a break, and unless Undyne picked up on it, he doubted the young monster would speak up in her own defense. 

 

Perhaps involving them in his little project would be the perfect excuse to ensure they took it easy for a few days? It could not hurt, and if all else failed he could requisition them from the university as he had several times before. 

 

As they followed after the more enthusiastic Undyne, he sent out a tentative question, “Speaking of looking into things, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind helping me with a little research of my own. Undyne, too, if she is ready.”

 

Alphys’ crest perked up, “R-really?”

 

He steered her absentminded footsteps out of the path of a trailing scarf dangling from a small human.

 

“Oh, nothing too political or challenging, really. It is not truly up to your caliber, but I thought it might be a nice break. A little historical research, or rather, recent history.”

 

The note of anxiety in her magic dropped noticeably. He knew she tended to take on rather more than she could handle now, thanks to Frisk’s patient signing. It was nice to be able to ask her for help with a task that did not cause her much stress. 

 

“Toriel and I noticed that Sans and his brother have some habits that are rather...odd.”

 

Alphys adjusted the seat of her glasses on her crest thoughtfully.

 

“I know what you m-mean. Papyrus never, um, never seems to sleep? Not that that’s bad, not ev-v-veryone needs to sleep as much, but...he doesn’t seem to get that other people do? Need to s-s-sleep, that is. Even his brother.”

 

Asgore made a note in his mind for later addition to the list.

 

Alphys continued, “And he d-d-didn’t have any friends? Before us? It’s like...he’s the nicest monster I know. How can he not have f-f-friends?”

 

It was rather surprising. Even with his enthusiasm and energy as high as they were, there were always monsters who would try to make friends.

 

“And Sans gets so...when he’s in the, um, lab? Any lab really. He’s sad. And kinda, I mean, I think he’s missing someone? Not grief, but like, maybe? He knew his w-w-way around the lab in the um...down there. Even better that I did.”

 

Asgore pondered this. Had Sans been-

 

“Hey PUNKS! Get a move on!”

 

Alphys jumped. Asgore turned and waved to Undyne politely.

 

“We are coming, Undyne. Do not worry. Alphys is just humoring an old king while he enjoys the architecture.”

 

Undyne glared suspiciously, then threw back her head and laughed, “OF COURSE! It’s awesome, right? I’ll leave you be if you throw me the keys.”

 

He did so. Undyne stalked off. A few steps later she stalked back.

 

“Oh, and when you’re done with your super secret spy stuff COUNT ME IN! I care about those boneheads too, you know, and there’s only so many times Pap can say, ‘RECORDS? WHAT RECORDS?” or, “SANS DOESN’T LIKE ME TO TALK ABOUT THAT” before I’ll run out of patience. AND I’VE ALREADY REACHED IT, FU HU HU!”

 

He and Alphys bothe stared after the rapidly retreating monster.

 

“Well...that just happened.”

 

Asgore nodded silently.

 

“I think we’re doing this? Yeash. But I have classes, and Rhonda wants me to co-author a paper on control-flow in LeySync adaptions…”

 

Asgore patted her on the shoulder, “That is fine, my friend. I am sure I can convince Alberic to let me have you for a few days. He is very honorable,  for a human. And I’m sure your colleague would n;ot mind a few days wait.”

 

Asgore added to himself, ‘ and if Alberich sees you like this he might very well tie you up and drop you on my doorstep. He has an odd way of showing concern for those he cares about.’

 

Alphy breathed out, and her magic eased with her breath., “ Okay, I g-g-guess that works?”

 

She looked at him, and he nodded reassurance back at her.

 

“Okay. Maybe I can, um, search a bit? When we get home, I mean. I’m sure there are r-r-records on them somewhere...maybe Grillby would have something? I think he took care of them at some point...Papyrus calls him Dad sometimes, when Sans isn’t around.”

 

As Alphys dug in her phone’s inventory for her much abused notebook, Asgore congratulated himself on bringing them in. Not only was Alphys already proving a fount of knowledge, but moreover letting her bury herself in this research would allow her the time to recover from this conference. With everyone’s help he was certain this little mystery would be solved in no time.

 

* * *

 

Asgore waited at the light in the same way he waited for all things - patiently and with a great deal of emotional sighing. He was beginning to wonder if the drivers of the cars ahead of him were entirely awake. Nearly every day he drove through this intersection, and even in the morning rush it had never taken as long as this. 

 

Of course, that might be due to his passengers. Undyne was passionately describing their demonstration at the conference. ‘Passionately’, he had learned over the decades of knowing the fish monster, meant ‘violently and with a great deal of shouting”. Alphys had long since drifted off into the half doze his human friends called ‘jetlagged’. He somewhat regretted that he could not do the same.

 

A buzzing in his pocket provided a welcome excuse to end Undyne’s rant. Thankful of the car salesman’s insistence that he buy a hands-free system for his phone, Asgore put the call on speaker for the entire vehicle to hear.

 

“Howdy there. This is Asgore Dreamurr. WHom do a I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

 

“Hello dear,” Tori’s voice was scarcely muffled by the phone, “It is myself and Papyrus. Sans and Frisk are here as well.”

 

“HI UNDYNE! HELLO DOCTOR ALPHYS! GOOD AFTERNOON, YOUR MAJESTY!”

 

Undyne grinned, “Hey Papyrus! Hey punk! How’s it hanging?”

 

The phone crackled for a few seconds, “OOD? THE PICTURE YOU SENT US HAS NOT FALLEN OFF THE WALL, ALTHOUGH I DO NOT KNOW HOW YOU KNOW THAT HER MAJESTY CHOSE TO FRAME IT. OH - FRISK SAYS THAT WAS AN EXPRESSION? THEY SAY TO TELL YOU WE ARE ‘HANGING TEN’. THIS SEEMS LIKE FAR TOO MANY PICTURES FOR THE HALLWAY WALL.”

 

Alphys sputtered, “It, um, doesn’t refer to the pictures, Pap-p-pyrus. It means you guys are, um, doing great/” Yeah, that’s about it.”

 

Papyrus hummed thoughtfully, “I SEE. I SHALL HAVE TO RESEARCH THIS USE OF ‘HANGING’ FOR THE PURPOSES OF EXPRESSION.”

 

Toriel inserted herself smoothly, “I take it the traffic along the freeway is more dense than you had anticipated?”

 

Asgore chuckled, “For once it was rather fast. Ho, the light by the library is holding us - oh, one moment. It seems we are starting to move.”

 

He eased off the brake, letting the car inch forward after the SUV in front of them had pulled away. He kept his eyes upward, and so had plenty of time to stop when the light turned yellow, then red. They not sat at the head of the queue. Undyne growled and gestured rudely at the retreating taillights. 

 

“Come on this light is TOTALLY long enough to have let through more than three cars. What gives?”

 

Sans’ low chuckle filled the car,, sending shivers up Asgore’s spine, “hey, undyne, don’t  _ blow your fuse _ . i’m sure the  _ current _ timing of the light just threw them for a loop.”

 

ALphys’ half-asleep snort was his only response, “*snrk* that was a g-g-good one, Sans.”

 

Papyrus groaned. Toriel remarked, “I am sure I would have appreciated that more had I any idea to what the pun was intended to refer.”

 

“You know you don’t have to like ALL his puns, right Toirel? Some of them are downright MRGH!”

 

Asgore, sensing his two partners’ reactions to Undyne’s inevitable insult, clapped one large paw over her mouth in an attempt to stem the flow of wroth and pain. Undyne’s eye was wide with shock as he motioned her to remain silent.

 

“I am sorry, I did not quite understand that last word. Would you care to repeat it, dear?”

 

Toriel’s voice was ever so polite. The poor quality of the connection nevertheless succeeded to convey the ice in her tone.

 

Sans, calm and upbeat in a forced sor of way, saved the day, “oh, just her usual criticism. she’s always saying i overuse them.  _ tibia _ honest, i think she’s right, course” Asgore could hear the wink, “for a lefty like me, that’s hardly the  _ helping hand  _  it’s meant to be.”

 

Surfing over Papyrus’ obligatory groan was the sound of a rimshot. Asgore wondered if it were Sans or Frisk who were supplying it this time. The child had been very excited to show off their newest skill. Sans’ and Toriel’s puns were proving a frequent opportunity.

 

Undyne grudgingly accepted his skeleton’s olive branch, “...Yeah. Overused. That’s what I was going to say. Overused. You’ve got some good stuff, nerd, but you rely WAY too much on skeleton puns. Mix it up a little.”

 

“THAT’S WHAT I’M ALWAYS TELLING HIM! THE HUMAN AGREES WITH ME, DON’T YOU HUUM- WHAT? ...NO! FRISK, HOW COULD YOU BETRAY ME LIKE THIS?”

 

“the kid said their dunkle sans should put a bit more  _ backbone _ into his sketches. i’m so proud.”

 

“That is my child. Well done, Frisk.”

 

The car next to Asgore pulled ahead. He looked up, blinked,in the bright green light, and started forward. Undyne cheered.

 

“YES1 Movement at last!’

 

“Ah. I shall have to put dinner into the oven now, shall I not? Sans, I must ask you to quit being such an adorable distraction and help your brother with the plates.”

 

“‘course, tori,” Sans’ voice was muffled. Asgore could picture him now, hiding his glowing blush beneath his new house jacket. Asgore had insisted on buying Sans at least one article of clothing for every location that heir skeleton could use to hide his hands and his head. It was much too adorable of a habit not to encourage.

 

Asgore became aware of three eyes boring into him.

 

“We will see you soon Papyrs, Frisk, Don’t let Toriel bake too much food before we arrive, please. Our fridge cannot stand it.”

 

“OF COURSE! FRISK AND I ARE ON THE JOB, YOUR MAJESTY! YOU CAN COUNT ON US TO SEE THIS THROUGH, NYEH HE HEH!”

 

Asgore ended the call, signalled, and completed his turn into the neighborhood. He pulled over the first moment he felt safe doing so, and turned to face his two passengers. Both of them were staring at him.

“Was there something wrong?”

 

Undyne fixed him with a look.”

 

“Are you, um, really okay with that? I mean, not that’s it’s a p-p-problem if you are, b-b-but-”

 

“Are you seriously telling me you broke up with your ex-wife AGAIN and let her get together with SANS THE FREAKING SKELETON in the four days we’ve been gone? YOU JUST GOT BACK TOGETHER WITH HER!”

 

Oh dear. In all of the excitement, Asgore had forgotten to tell them of Toriel’s and his new arrangement. He had better fix matters.

 

* * *

 

“You WHAT?!!!!”

 

* * *

 

“OMG that is s-s-so cute! I have to write - no, I need...um, that is...yousoundsocuteit’sADORABLEithoughtnothingcouldbeattorigorebutthisismynewOT3!”

 

* * *

 

“hey kid,” the human turned to him. He tossed them a few coins that vanished into their inventory, “guess you won the bet. you think someone should tell tori to turn off the oven?”

 

Frisk nodded happily at him. He winked back, “welp, better get started on that. i’ve got some very important hiding to do before fishface gets here and rips my legs off.”

 

Frisk signed back.

 

-Why would she do that?-

 

He chuckled darkly, “undyne’s not exactly a fan, and she’s got a soft spot for gori. she’s probably going to try to dust me for stealing his wife just after they got back together.”

 

They shook their head furiously and signed.

 

-No. Dad-Goat will explain, and Undyne isn’t bad.-

 

“no, but subtle isn’t in her vocabulary. neither is patience. i’d rather let her work it off a bit before getting within throwing distance, if it’s all the same to you.”

 

With that, he teleported away, leaving Frisk alone in the front hallway, mildly worried and set with the task of telling Toriel she’d have to wait before serving her meal because Asgore had forgotten to tell Undyne and Alphys about Sans. They sighed, shuffled over to the spot at the bottom of the stairs, tapped it, and then wandered into the kitchen. Even if they didn’t believe it, they’d rather be safe than sorry when it came to their friends.


	10. Unexpected Angst: Introductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the large amounts of angst in this: most/all will be resolved in the next chapter. I don't know when that will be, but hopefully soon.

“So, where’s the punk?”

 

Toriel glared at Undyne. The uncouth monster had once again dented the wall with her entrance. Perhaps reinforcing the door after the first incident had been in error. Then again, plaster was rather cheap, and paint likewise. She just wished that she was not having to repair it every week.

 

The monster in question’s eye was scanning the foyer. From the coffee table to the bookcase to the cupboards to the ceiling fan, no hiding place, however unlikely, was left unexamined. Toriel huffed at the rudeness of it.

 

“If by that oafish descriptor you mean Sans, he is not here.”

 

The face turned on her was puzzled, “You mean he left already?”

 

“No. He is not in this room,” with that, Toriel turned sharply away and strode into the kitchen. She may have huffed, although she would never admit it. Words followed after her, but she ignored them.

 

Undyne was...irritating. Oh, she was a kind monster, in her way. She was good with the children whenever she visited the school. Passionate, too. A champion of other’s hopes and dreams. She was quick to act, although that often meant jumping to conclusions. Scenery was, to her, either a weapon or an inconvenience.

 

None of this explained Toriel’s dislike of the woman. Much of it was quite admirable. It was simply that...Asgore loved her, not as a lover, but as a daughter, and she loved him back. Neither of them would admit it, but it was true.

 

That was it, really. She had spent centuries trying to fill the hole in her heart. She had taken in so many children, cared for them, fed them...none of them had stayed. Even Frisk was not hers, not truly. Frisk belonged to themselves and all of monsterkind, if not the other way round. But every time Toriel spoke with Undyne, it was her husband’s child she saw. Not hers.

 

Could she be blamed for showing a little spite?

 

* * *

 

Undyne stared after the retreating queen, then shrugged it off. Toriel probably still had dishes in the oven, and despite Undyne’s best efforts, the Boss Monster refused to turn up the temperature even a little. Something about flavoring. She had to admit the Queen’s pies tasted really good, sooo….let the Queen bake how she wanted. It wasn’t as though she wasn’t passionate in other places.

 

Speaking of which, she had a skeleton to find. Yeah, it was weird thinking of the little punk and her da- Asgore acting all romancy. It was Sans, after all, the lazy slob of a brother to Papyrus who somehow managed to run three of her sentry stations simultaneously AND STILL SLEEP THROUGH HALF HIS SHIFT. But if thinking about him made Asgore go all red and sigh-y, she couldn’t really object. 

 

Didn’t mean she wasn’t going to give that punk a piece of her mind when she found him. Her boots knocked sawdust off the roof beams as she bounded up the stairs. If he thought he could get away with sleeping half the day and rummaging around the kitchen half the night while dating HER DA- KING, he had another thing coming!

 

She slammed open the first door at the top of the staircase and glared. Nope, no skeletons in the closet - not that even Sans could fit, with all those towels and things. Next!

 

She’d barely touched the handle of the next door when Papyrus yelled, “HE’S NOT HERE, AND YOU CAN’T COME IN.”

 

She glared at the handle, “Why not, BESTIE?!!”

 

“BECAUSE OF...THINGS! YES, THINGS! THINGS IN FRONT OF THE DOOR WHICH IN NO WAY RELATE TO BIRTHDAYS. IN ANY WAY. AT ALL.”

 

She rolled her eyes. Yep, that sounded like Papyrus. And if he had gifts in there, he probably wasn’t hiding Sans. Although why he decided to wrap presents when he KNEW she was coming over was beyond her. And at Asgore’s house, too.

 

“FINE, I’ll just keep looking ALONE, WITH NO HELP AT ALL!”

 

She eyed the door hopefully.

 

“THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL NOT HELP ANYONE TO YELL AT HIS BROTHER UNLESS HE DESERVES IT. BUT I CAN TELL YOU FOR CERTAIN HE IS NOT IN THIS ROOM. OR THE FOYER. OR THE CLOSET.”

 

She wilted. No luck there, then.

 

“Thanks, Pap. You’re SO helpful.”

 

“YES, I KNOW! THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS A VERY HELPFUL MONSTER, NYEH HEH HEH!”

 

She sighed and moved on. At least she knew Sans was within hearing distance. Papyrus always ramped up his cheerful act whenever his brother was around. It was just something he did, although it could be annoying when it happened in the middle of a sentence. One minute he’s dragging the monster who designed vent puzzles through the dirt, the next he’s acting like the back of his hand was unknown territory. Just another weird skeleton thing...actually, she should tell dad- Asgore. Yeah, that was a good idea. If they were investigating mysteries anyway, she’d like to know about that one, too.

 

The third door was a bathroom, so she knocked before barging in. The soap dispenser showed its usual scorn. She peered inside the bathtub and opened all the cabinets. Nothing. Great. 

 

The next two rooms were just as Sans-less. Guest rooms, both of them, with fresh flowers scattered in glass jars around one. She smiled at that - he never could resist putting out flowers, and this time he’d remembered to avoid yellow ones. Something about those blank centers gave her the willies.

 

The next set of stairs passed just as quickly. She had no idea how many steps there were, since she was either too tired to notice or to excited to bother. The closet up here was less empty than the first one, but equally without skeletons. It did have a small white dog, however. He licked her face cheerfully, then jumped down. 

 

She wasn’t taking a suggestion from a dog when she opened the door he was scratching at. Clearly she was...letting him through! He probably wanted to retrieve the dog bones poking out from under the curtains in the corner.

 

…

 

The dog bones had socks on them. And slippers.

 

…

 

Yeah, that was Sans.

 

She dashed back the curtains, snagged him by the stiff collar of an unfamiliar t-shirt, and rammed him against the other wall. His only reaction was a few hurried blinks. He didn’t even have the decency to stop smiling! Not that she’d ever seen him not smiling, but still!

 

She stuck her face within an inch of his and glared at him, “Nice hiding place, punk. What was it this time, a game with Frisk?”

 

He tried his best to shrug, “annoying dog. after my bones.”

 

Her grin widened. It wasn’t a smile, “Oh, really? Then why were your feet still on the ground?”

 

“he’s annoying. even gravity can’t stand him.”

 

Her grin congealed. She let it melt, slowly, and with a long sigh that blew into Sans’ face. 

 

“Look, punk. I don’t like you. You know that, so do I. You’re lazy, weak, and I think your puns suck. No news there.”

 

He nodded. She skewered him with a look.

 

“But apparently Dad sees...ASGORE sees something in you that I don’t. Toriel, too, but her puns are almost as bad as yours.”

 

He nodded, and she growled, “Was that agreement with the puns?”

 

Sans hesitated, “...yes.”

 

“Good,” her eye wandered, then snapped back, “ANYWAYS, they like you. Don’t know why, but they do. I might not like it, but it makes him - THEM - happy, so why not? But I can’t let you get there hopes up for nothing, SO I made some rules.”

 

His sockets are fixed on her as she pulls the crumpled scrap of paper out of her bra. She glares further, “What? It’s convenient. Anyways…”

 

She cleared her throat, “ITEM ONE: No tardiness. If I hear that you showed up for a date even ONE MINUTE LATE I’ll come over to your house and make you eat a BARREL of spaghetti. WITH MUSTARD!”

 

He shuddered, and she continued, “ITEM TWO: No freeloading. If Dad offers you gifts, you say no. If he insists, you better give him something back. Got it?”

 

Sans nodded slightly, “GOOD! ITEM THREE: Flirting is not a joke. You do it right or I cream you, got it? No fake proposals, no cheesy pick up lines, and NO GAMES.”

 

Sans was shivering now. Something in her said she should stop this, that it wasn’t right treating him like this. The rest of her told that bit to push off. If she was a problem, he would tell her so. That’s what she would do, so OBVIOUSLY he agreed with her suggestions. She pushed on.

 

“ITEM FOUR: Don’t waste his time. He’s BUSY, get it? Don’t text him at 1am because you’re bored. Don’t drop by the house unless he - THEY - tell you to. Don’t do ANYTHING unless they say okay first. His happiness is important, okay? If you mess this up you’ll have to deal with me. GOT IT?!!!”

 

“...loud and clear.”

 

Sans wouldn’t meet her eyes. GOOD! She knew eye contact was a sign of challenge, so looking away meant she’d won!

 

She dropped him on the floor and spun around, “GREAT! I’m going to go unpack. Don’t make me come looking for you again, punk.”

 

“i won’t.”

 

She walked away from those quiet words happy in a job well done. That was how it was done, right? She’d read so many confrontations in Alphys’ manga. The big brother ALWAYS gave a talking to to the suitor. Or the big sister did. Or the son from the first marriage. BUT ANYWAYS, it had to be done! That way, the suitor knew that the person they were sweet on had backup and not to break their heart or WHAM! 

 

Not that she thought Sans would go that far. He didn’t have the spunk.

  
  
  
  



	11. Unexpected Angst: Downwards

When they were sure Undyne had left the room, Frisk stepped out from behind the lamp. It wasn’t as convenient as they would have liked, being all the way across the room from where Sans was, but it had been the only good hiding space left. They wondered if Sans had noticed they were there.

 

He didn’t look like he had. He was just...lying there. He looked very small with his shoulders hunched like that. Almost smaller than them. His sockets were empty and stiff around the edges. So were the edges of his smile, stiffer than they had been in days. That wasn’t a good sign. Had Undyne broken him? They didn’t want to have to LOAD - that always gave Sans nightmares.

 

Frisk poked the dull pile of bones. He didn’t move much. They poked him harder. The energy of the poke, unresisted, flopped him onto his back. He also grunted, which encouraged them. They kept poking.

 

He groaned low in his ribcage. Then he rolled away from them, wedging himself against the wall. They kept up the barrage anyway, determined to make sure he was okay.

 

Sans breathed in a heavy sigh. He turned his skull to face them without much enthusiasm.

 

“whatcha want, kid?”

 

They signed fast, knowing that he would always keep up and not wanting him to turn away again.

 

-Undyne was very rude to you. What she said wasn’t good advice.-

 

He didn’t look any happier.

 

“eavesdropping again kid? you’re getting to be a real lawbreaker. papyrus would be ashamed.”

 

They signed insistently.

 

-It wasn’t true. They love you.-

 

He rolled away, somehow even sadder than before.

 

“go away kid. you’re just wasting your time.”

 

They tried poking him again. It didn’t work. They tried shaking him. That didn’t do any better. They had only one option left. Frisk looked back at his slumped body sadly as they went for help.

 

* * *

 

“HELLO HUMAN.”

 

Frisk grabbed one red-gloved hand and tugged. Papyrus sighed.

 

“DID UNDYNE DECIDE TO TALK TO HIM ANYWAY?”

 

Frisk nodded and tugged some more.

 

“I’M SORRY, FRISK, BUT ALAS THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AS AMAZING AS HE IS, IS NOT THE PROPER PERSON TO HELP SANS OUT OF HIS DEPRESSION. PERHAPS ASGORE WOULD BE A BETTER CHOICE?”

 

Frisk signed worriedly.

 

-I think she broke something. He’s all stiff and crumpled. He was so scared of her he didn’t even struggle!-

 

Papyrus shook his head.

 

“MY BROTHER ISN’T AFRAID OF UNDYNE. HE JUST THINKS SHE’S RIGHT. AND THEN THAT MAKES UNDYNE MORE CERTAIN OF HER OPINION OF HIM, SO SHE TELLS HIM WHAT TO DO EVEN MORE. THEN HE LISTENS AND OBEYS BECAUSE HE THINKS HE HAS TO. THEN SHE THINKS HE’S EVEN LESS WORTHWHILE AND TALKS ABOUT HIM EVEN WORSE.”

 

Frisk frowned.

 

-That’s stupid.-

 

Papyrus grinned, “YES, IT IS. SANS, WHILE OF COURSE BEING THE COOLEST OLDER BROTHER ALIVE TODAY, DOES NOT KNOW HOW TO STAND UP TO PEOPLE. UNDYNE, WHILE OBVIOUSLY THE MOST TERRIFYING OF BEST FRIENDS KNOWN TO MONSTERKIND, CANNOT DEAL WELL WITH THOSE WHO WON’T FIGHT BACK. NEITHER OF THEM REALIZES WHAT’S HAPPENING, SO THEY’RE STUCK.”

 

Frisk tilted their head. They couldn’t read his expression. He saw their motion and sighed.

 

“THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS NOT GOOD AT SOME THINGS, LIKE COOKING AND MAKING FRIENDS.”

 

They lifted their hands to object, but he held up a finger.

 

“NO. I KNOW THIS. IT’S OKAY. NOT EVERYONE CAN BE GOOD AT EVERYTHING.”

 

He looked at his action figures with unfocused eye sockets.

 

“BUT THE THINGS I AM GOOD AT WORRY PEOPLE. THEY DON’T LIKE TO THINK SOMEONE SO CHILDISH CAN KNOW WHY THEY DO THINGS BETTER THAN THEY DO. SO I DON’T LET THEM KNOW. IT WORKS BETTER THAT WAY. UNDYNE IS THE ONLY ONE WHO NOTICES, BUT SHE JUST THINKS IT’S “BEING BLUNT”. EVERYONE ELSE DOESN’T SEE ENOUGH OF ME TO FIGURE IT OUT. EXCEPT SANS, BUT I’M VERY CAREFUL AROUND HIM.”

 

Frisk frowned.

 

-Why don’t you let Sans see you being smart?-

 

Papyrus looked sort of sad. The same sort of sad Goat-Dad looked when he tried to fight them.

 

“SANS HAS TOO MANY OF HIS OWN PROBLEMS. IF I LET HIM SEE, HE’D PUSH EVERYTHING ASIDE TO HELP ME. EVEN HIS OWN PROBLEMS. I LOVE MY BROTHER, SO I DON’T LIKE TO SEE HIM HURT. ESPECIALLY WHEN HE DOESN’T WANT ME TO NOTICE.”

 

Frisk stared at him for a bit. Then they gave him a hug. After a moment, he reluctantly managed to let them go.

 

* * *

 

Toriel kept Alphys from helping with the bags by the simple expedient of handing her a cup of tea and herding her over to a chair. It was not nearly as good a cup as Gorey would have made her, but the warmth and familiarity of it anchored the lizard monster to the spot.

 

The two of them watched Asgore carry in the luggage accompanied only by the sipping of tea. Toriel noticed an extra flush on the scientist’s cheeks that even her tiredness could not explain. The queen decided to have a little bit of fun while they waited.

 

“I do not wish to insult you, but please know that if you attempt to flirt with either of my boyfriends I will be very disappointed.”

 

Alphys jumped, almost dropping the mug, “Oh! No, no, I c-c-couldn’t do that. Not that he isn’t hot or anything...OMG did I just say that out loud?”

 

Toriel stifled a laugh, “Yes, Doctor Alphys.”

 

“OMG I’M SO SORRY!!! I didn’t mean it! I mean I did, I mean of course I think he’s hot - who w-w-wouldn’t? B-b-but I would never intrude...because...you…”

 

Toriel put a finger to the hyperventilating reptile’s lips.

 

“Do not worry. I understand completely. Asgore is far too polite to act on such things. Still, it would be a good idea, would it not, to be more discrete about your daydreaming?”

 

Alphys turned quite red and buried her face in her hands. Toriel noted that her magic’s song was taking an odd turning.

 

“I c-c-can’t believe I did that. I know he’s taken and- and I have a girlfriend! Why do I always screw up like that?”

 

Toriel’s brow furrowed. The scientist’s magic was turning almost as acidic as Sans’ had been. She grabbed the lizard’s chin gently and tilted it up towards her own face. The yellow scales were dripping with sweat.

 

“Alphys. There is nothing wrong with a little daydreaming. Goodness knows I do plenty of that! We cannot help what interests us. Why would I blame you for thinking my partner is dreamy when he so clearly is? I was attempting, in a rather obscure and round about way I admit, to lead up to asking you for any stories from when he and I were apart...the sort of stories only another admirer would know. I admit I should have gone about it in a less misinterpretable way. Will you accept this old lady’s apology?”

 

“What the heck are you apologizing for? You were just teasing her, right? My girl can take a bit of teasing with the best of them.”

 

Undyne was grinning as she plopped down behind her girlfriend. Alphys’ wavering magic lit up, but Toriel could not be deterred. She tried to bite down the iciness in her voice for the scientist’s sake.

 

“Nevertheless I must apologize. Not all monsters are as strong-willed as you are, Captain. Words which resemble the doubts in our own SOULs are extremely difficult to turn aside. Even meant in the best of lights, words always have more power to harm us than any attack. After all, the intent behind a word is interpreted by the listener’s SOUL, not by the attacker’s magic. We cannot guarantee that they will hear what we intend anymore than we can guarantee that they will speak their minds in return. Battles with words take far more strength and fortitude than you might imagine.”

 

Alphys had nodded along throughout the speech, a glumness to her that Toriel could not explain. Undyne, however, had looked bored. The look had slowly morphed into earnest confusion, and then finally into sudden guilt.

 

“Crud. I...crud.”

 

She jumped to her feet. Alphys’ chair wobbled with a squeak of protest. The captain steadied it absentmindedly, then grabbed the unsuspecting cup of tea and hurled it to the ground. She looked absolutely furious.

 

“U-undyne! What are you-”

 

Toriel was beginning to suspect the source of the fish monsters anger. The suspicion was enough to force her to intercept the monster before she threw herself out the door.

 

“Undyne,” Toriel prided herself on the lack of anger in her tone. Her magic, on the other hand, was boiling with it, “What, exactly, did you say to Sans when you were upstairs?”

 

Undyne turned her one eye on the unmoving Boss Monster currently dangling her several inches off of the floor and gulped. Even Undyne the Undying knew when she was in for a lecture.

 

* * *

 

Asgore set the last bag down with a satisfying huff. They weren’t heavy by any means, but the feeling of completing a task always lifted his spirits. Be it planting bulbs or signing paperwork, or even carrying bags in from the car, he always felt unburdened whenever he finished, and that was a feeling he cherished.

 

Small, hurrying feet approached from behind. He turned quickly, fighting down the urge to tense. He knew many people of the small variety, and several of them were quite dear to his heart.

 

“Howdy, Frisk. Were you looking for something?”

 

The determined human did not stop to sign. They ran straight up to his side, wrapped both hands around his much larger wrist, and tugged. He followed, ever willing to be involved in their young Ambassador’s life.

 

The firm guide led him up to the third story of the house with unaccustomed speed. Frisk seldom rushed - whatever they were worried about must be very important. Extremely so, knowing Frisk.

 

When they reached the door to Asgore’s bedroom, he began to get the picture.

 

“It’s Sans, isn’t it? Has something happened?”

 

Frisk nodded. Their eyes held a kind of worried sadness that a child so young did not deserve to wear. At least, so he had always thought. Perhaps it was impossible to keep away - his own experiences told him that all too often adults forget to tell children what was wrong. It never worked out as well as they thought it would.

 

He ruffled their hair, “Go on down to Toriel and ask her for a bottle of ketchup, will you Frisk? I’ll see what I can do.”

 

The human’s footsteps cascaded down the stairs. Thu-rump. Thu-rump. Thu-rump. Asgore waited until he was sure they were down all fourteen steps before heading into his room.

 

He could not see Sans from the door. That left very few places for Sans to be, and the caustic feeling of his magic was too vicious just then to give Asgore a homing beacon. He walked over to the lamp - nothing. He deliberately skirted around the blue-stained floor as he walked over to the closet. No upset pile of bones lay among the shoes and mis-matched socks. They always seemed to turn up, no matter how he tried to control them.

 

Asgore abandoned the socks to their fate and turned around. Ah, there he was. Sans had oozed over to the corner by the window. The hanging curtain encircled him as far as the hem of his jacket. His knees were drawn up to his chest, and one sad slipper lay nearly a foot away.

 

Asgore sat on the bed, not remotely attempting to muffle the sounds of the bed sheets. He did not want to scare Sans, but he also did not want to intrude on his hiding space. The skeleton in the corner tried to curl up further.

 

As they always did when confronted with deeply emotional circumstances, Asgore’s mind sought around for something to do. He took in the room. It was mostly, grey. Toriel hated it, but Asgore wasn’t very good at colors not on living things. He much prefered flowers, and living flowers at that. Toriel would probably insist he paint it.

 

“What do you think of the room, Sans? I know it is not the most decorative of color schemes. I think Tori will want me to paint it. What do you think?”

 

“whatever makes you happy.”

 

The voice was unremarkably normal, if a bit quiet. Sans sounded just as he had in the Underground, all those times Asgore had consulted him for advice - unbiased, uninvolved, and unemotional. He did not sound like a skeleton who could have worried Frisk like that. Asgore pressed on. Perhaps humor?

 

“No need to rush. Perhaps we can go shopping for paint samples sometime. Yes, that would be fun. I know paint colors have many humorous names. I ran across one the other day...what was it- Oh, yes. Blue-tiful day.”

 

“sounds good. blue is supposed to be a good color for bedrooms. it’s calming.”

 

Nothing. Not even a hint of laughter in his magic. This called for more direct action.

 

“Sans, I know something has happened to upset you,” the skeleton flinched, “You don’t have to tell me now, but I’d like to make sure you’re okay.”

 

“m’fine. don’t worry about it.”

 

Asgore sucked in a breathe and let it out slowly. Sans didn’t deserve to be yelled at. He needed support. Hiding his feelings seemed to be as instinctual to their skeleton as making tea had become to him, if Sans’ magic was anything to go by. He could not overcome a habit like that in a few days time.

 

“I know you’re not, Sans. You don’t have to tell me, though. But I do want to see. Can you come out from behind the curtains, at least?” He paused, “Unless you’re wounded. Then please stay there and tell me, and I’ll fetch Tori.”

 

Sans didn’t move for a long moment. Then he sighed. He rolled over slowly, although that might have had more to do with the curtain getting trapped under his back than with his own energy. When he finally worked himself free, he stood. Imaginary particles of dust were diligently brushed off of his black-cotton pants. Asgore recognised an excuse to avoid meeting someone’s eyes when he saw one.

 

“Sans,” the skeleton began fiddling with his shirt, “Please, don’t hide your sockets from me. They are so deep, and so pretty. Can I have a peek?”

 

Sans’ gaze shifted to his face sharply at the comment, and Asgore smiled, “There they are. Stunning.”

 

He held his arms out invitingly. Tired sockets blinked once, twice, three times.

 

“I really do want to hold the skeleton I adore.”

 

That broke the stalemate. Sans shuffled over to the bed. He hopped up, barely making a dent compared to Asgore’s divot. The Boss Monster waited in silence while Sans made himself comfortable and secure. A magic-padded pelvis settled on his left leg, two small feet on his right. Sans’ right arm curled around his ribcage, and the left tugged insistently on his arm. He let Sans wrap it round him, and just held the skeleton.

 

Neither moved for sometime. Just being together, for now, was all that was needed. Later, there would be time for talking.

 

But monsters are made of magic, and so talking would do nothing for them until their magic was calm enough to accept it. Thus, while neither moved, their magic twirled and spiked around them, two songs working slowly towards a joined, calmer tune.

 


	12. Unexpected Angst: Finne

Time passed like water through a sponge; a great deal of it was sucked up far more quickly than one might expect. Sans had fallen asleep in his arms at some point. Asgore was loath to move and disturb him. Instead he had shifted into considering the Mystery of the Skeletons’ Past.

 

He was certain now that Sans had been neglected. That would make calling the skeleton families more difficult. Monsters were usually very supportive of children; their own or another’s, it didn’t matter. But Sans was insecure. Papyrus, too, now he considered the matter. But where Papyrus masked his insecurity with a boisterous facade, Sans tore himself apart for the least little thing. Even Alphys had more confidence than him - she was just overly conscious of other people’s opinions.

 

Asgore was pulled out of his musings by Sans’ stirring. His phalanges twitched on both hands and feet. Then his head tilted slowly on it’s axis until a faint pop sounded. How a skeleton could crack their vertebrae without flesh to contain the air...well, crack as in the sound, not the action. The action was something he’d rather not think about.

 

Anyway, Sans had finished with his neck and moved on to the rest of his spine. He sat up slowly, every vertebrae carefully realigned with the one below. It was quite impressive, really. Asgore wondered who had taught him. It was far to practiced a motion to be natural. It looked almost clinical.

 

Spine successfully realigned, Sans sneezed. Toriel had mentioned how adorably Sans’ sneezed, but Asgore hadn’t believed it would be  _ this  _ adorable. He smiled happily down at their amazing skeleton.

 

“Howdy, Sans. Did your nap help?”

 

Sans started. He almost fell out of Asgore’s lap, but the former king caught him and cuddled him close just in time.

 

“Sorry,” Asgore chuckled, “I didn’t mean to startle you. I should have known you were still too sleepy to notice me. You are adorable when you’re just waking up, Sans. Cute as a button.”

 

Sans’ blush spread quickly. He laughed nervously. Then his face fell as his memory caught up with him. 

 

“May I ask what hurt you so much earlier?”

 

Sans turned away, “nothing hurt me. m-”

 

“Sans. Emotional damage is just as real and dangerous as the physical. I will not have you hiding it - it is my job as your datefriend to make sure you are okay. Please, if you can’t tell me what, at least tell me why? You were so happy these past few days,” Asgore brushed a paw against the tense edge of Sans’ smile, “And now you are as tense as you ever were. Please tell me how I can help.”

 

Sans’ skull leaned into him and then pulled back sharply.

 

“m’not supposed to worry you.”

 

Asgore’s brow furrowed, “Who told you that?”

 

Sans looked down and mumbled something. Asgore’s ears were honed by years of listening, however, and so he heard the name.

 

“Sans, tell me exactly what Undyne told you,” Sans jolted at the name, “because I am certainly going to worry no matter what you do. It is my job. It would be my job even if we weren’t datefriends. You are the Dunkle of our Ambassador, and so I will worry that you are safe and happy until the end of time.”

 

Sans smile eased just a hair at his official title. Frisk had wanted all of their friends to have a role. Sans had refused to take one officially; he said all that responsibility made his stomach churn. So, being the determined creature that they were, the tiny human had made one up just for him. His official duties consisted of inserting at least one bad pun or prank into every speech they made. Sans had accepted on the condition that his name never be included.

 

Looking back on that now, Asgore wondered if there were another motive. Perhaps Sans was skittish of being the center of attention. He had certainly shown that these past few days. Asgore made a note not to announce this new relationship of theirs until Sans gave the okay.

 

Speaking of the skeleton - Sans was being remarkably quiet for someone who was supposed to be spilling the soup (or was that chilli?). Asgore looked down at a skeleton practically rigid with anxiety.

 

“Sans,” He looked up, “I promise not to act on what you tell me unless you yourself give me permission.”

 

Sans gulped and chuckled nervously. Slowly, his voice barely audible and cracking on every third word, Undyne’s unfortunately successful attempt at intimidation was relayed.

 

* * *

 

“So, when do I get to leave time out?”

 

Toriel sipped her tea, pointedly ignoring the blue-finned monster in the corner. 

 

Alphys, ever nervous, relayed, “How long does U-u-undyne have to stay in the, um, corner?”

 

“Until both she and Sans are capable of enacting an apology - she of meaning it, and he of accepting it - Undyne will remain in the corner to think about her actions. And even then, she will not leave until I determine the amount of damage she dealt is not severe enough to require further punishment.”

 

“Ah. I see you have heard of the situation, my dear.”

 

Everyone but Undyne turned to see Asgore standing alone in the doorway. Sans was nowhere to be seen.

 

“Yes indeed. Have you spoken to him?”

 

Asgore nodded, “I have. He is...well, he is shaken. I am afraid that what little confidence we built in him has crumbled. He believed her.”

 

“Good.”

 

Toriel shot a glare at Undyne that would have boiled paint off a rocket ship.

 

“I mean, OBVIOUSLY he shouldn’t have believed all of it, but he needs to be respectful of you!”

 

Toriel blinked. Asgore laughed, his voice deep and warm.

 

“Undyne, Sans is hardly going to be disrespectful. He was prepared to cut ties with us rather than risk breaking up our newly repaired relationship. Toriel and I practically kidnapped him to get him to confess, and we’ve been spoiling him rotten because he deserves it. He is not taking advantage of us; it would be more likely to be the other way around because he agrees with everything we ask.”

 

Toriel took up the thread, “He is one of the most self-sacrificing monsters I have ever encountered. His own magic hides behind a cloak of nothingness. It eats at itself constantly. He was treated as a child as though he was not worth it and now believes that to his very core.”

 

“Wait WHAT?!!!” 

 

Undyne sucked in a lungful of air. She was on her feet, spear in hand and face grim, in less than a second.

 

“WHO THE HECK WOULD DO THAT TO SOME KID?!!!” 

 

Toriel gave her a look. Undyne shuffled her feet.

 

“I mean, yeah, he’s pretty annoying...but treating a kid like that’s messed up. Alph and I’ve been looking into this. Stuff like that can cause ser...i...ous...oh.”

 

“Yes,” Toriel was smugness personified.

 

The spear vanished, “Oh.”

 

“Indeed,” Asgore was giving Toriel a sad look now. It reminded her of her own long-dead mother.

 

Undyne hung her head, “I’m an idiot.”

 

Asgore coughed, “That is not true. You are reckless, yes, and sometimes misguided. But so are we all, at times. The sign of a good monster, of a good person, is recognising your errors and doing everything you can to make up for them.”

 

Undyne looked up, her single eye gleaming.

 

“Where can I start?”


	13. Family

When Frisk came down to retrieve a bottle of Toriel and Sans’ homemade ketchup, the kitchen was transformed into a war room. Scraps of paper littered every surface, wooden skewers outlined a rough plan of the Underground, and Alphys was typing madly at her laptop with a gleam in her eyes. 

 

Undyne, too, had a gleam. Perhaps fire would be a better word. She burned with passion as she had that day at the edge of Waterfall and Hotlands. 

 

“Dogamy and Dogessa can canvas the Snowdin residents. They keep in touch with just about everybody, and there’s no fricking way they won’t be interested in this.”

 

Alphys spoke from her hunched state, “I’m not finding any birth records in the right time periods. Are you sure about their ages?”

 

Asgore, who was seated at the table with flowers all along the edges, replied, “They were only rough estimates. Are you certain there are no official records for them as sentries?”

 

“Yeah. Pap never was one officially, and Sans’ paperwork got lost during the move to the Surface. If there ever was any.”

 

Toriel, looking over Asgore’s shoulder, said sharply, “Surely you would not be so careless as to employ a sentry without doing a background check.”

 

Undyne shrugged, “The dogs vouched for him. It wasn’t like there was any crime in Snowdin to begin with. There was a rash of Falling that took out most of my sentries. He was there. That was all we really needed.”

 

Frisk walked over to Toriel and tugged her sleeve. The Boss Monster looked down.

 

“Ah, hello Frisk,” Frisk waved back, “Was there something you needed?”

 

Frisk signed the word for ketchup and made it a question.

 

“It is in the fridge, my child. There is also a plate of snickerdoodles, I believe. Perhaps Sans, Papyrus, and you would all like a snack?”

 

Frisk signed happy agreement to the accompanying noises of typing. They walked over to the fridge as Toriel walked over to stand behind Alphys. The ketchup was easy to find. So were the snickerdoodles. They left the conference happy in the knowledge that their friends were working hard to help Sans get better. Maybe even Papyrus, too.

 

* * *

 

 

Grillby’s head barely turned when the phone started ringing. It was an unfortunately common occurrence nowadays. Time was when he could have gone weeks without anyone calling his cell phone. Now, with seven restaurants to manage and children scattered around the globe, it rang frequently.

 

He pulled it out of his pocket with a groan. Everyone at all the restaurants knew not to call him on Wednesday nights. Fuku was studying for a organic chemistry final in two days and hardly ever called in any case. Papyrus was busy with some event at Asgore’s today, and Sans wouldn’t call someone if his life depended on it. He much prefered to text people. He said his jokes worked better that way, although Grillby had never seen the difference.

 

“.....This is Grillby speaking.”

 

“Howdy, Grillby. It’s me, Asgore. Could you spare a moment?” 

 

The flame’s resentment at the interruption to his free day faded. Asgore was technically one of his oldest friends, although it was hard to think of someone as only a friend when you had seen them in diapers. Dirty diapers. That you had changed. No, Asgore was more than a friend, and it had been some time since they last spoke. He hissed out a yes.

 

“Thank you. I know it’s been awhile since we last spoke, but I had a question about someone from Snowdin and I thought you might be able to help.”

 

Grillby crackled, “.....Why don’t you ask Sans?.....He enjoys helping you.”

 

The flame knew his adopted son had a thing for the royal family. He had tried his best to encourage the friendship, having known Asgore through his teenage years and marriage. The Boss Monster had more heart than could be held by just one person, or even two. He looked forward to seeing the day Sans and Asgore hit it off. Maybe even Toriel, if she could be convinced to forgive Asgore for the crimes she believed he had committed. That would be quite something.

 

“He does, doesn’t he? I didn’t realise how much I relied on him until a few days ago.”

 

Grillby bit back a groan. What stupid thing had Sans done now?

 

“Toriel and I got back together, did you know that? Sans was quite the little matchmaker.”

 

That didn’t surprise Grillby. He pulled out a pad of paper and started filling out a list of ingredients for a gift. Toriel had never been able to manage scones, for some reason. A nice bunch of lavender ones would do.

 

“Then he tried to be the martyr and cut contact with us.” 

 

Grillby slammed to attention. He did  _ what. _

 

“Of course, that didn’t last long. Toriel and I whisked him off and have been spoiling him rotten. Clothes, the museum, food, everything.”

 

Grillby sat back again, a wide smile spread across his face.

 

“But some odd things have come up. We’re trying to figure out where he came from, him and Papyrus. Would you happen to have any idea? I know they lived in Snowdin for some time.”

 

Grillby sighed, “.....No. I know my boys wandered into Snowdin, oh, 70 years ago?.....Maybe eighty. I’d have to check.”

 

Grillby could hear the coughing fit that broke out perfectly.

 

“I’m sorry. Did you just say YOUR BOYS?”

 

“.....Yes?” Grillby was confused, “.....adopted, of course. Sans was extremely sick when they showed up, and Papyrus was half-frozen…..both were not able to take care of themselves…..And then before we knew it we were a family.”

 

Silence echoed down the phone line. 

 

“Well, then. I suppose I should be asking permission to court your son.”

 

Grillby’s smile returned, “.....Given. Just as long as you let me in on the hunt for their first family.”

 

“Given.”

 

* * *

 

Several hours later saw the kitchen quiet at last. Midnights were like that, usually. Undyne and Alphys had shuffled up the stairs to their beds not long before, and Frisk and Papyrus were fast asleep. Sans had come downstairs on hushed, slippered feet. He wasn’t sure why, but something about warm milk at midnight called to him right now. It’s song carried notes of indulgence, affection, and comfort he could not explain. 

 

He found two tired Boss Monsters bent over a spread of paperwork. They looked as  _ bone _ -tired as he felt. Toriel was hunched in a chair with her reading glasses on, a blue spiral notebook in her hands. Asgore leaned against her chair, both eyes barely open. He did not look far from sleep. Neither of them did.

 

Sans’ mouth relaxed ever so slightly at the sight. After Undyne’s lecture a loud part of him had expected them to leave, even if this was their home. Another part had been terrified of their reaction to his breakdown. But here they were, working so hard at something that they were falling asleep at the table. He hadn’t affected anything; it was a common enough sight.

 

He silently ghosted his way over to the fridge. He hauled out the gallon of milk Toriel and he had gotten yesterday. He poured three cups of milk with so little noise that the two Boss Monsters didn’t hear him over their mutterings. All three cups he infused with heat and magic. It was the only cooking spell he knew, and it made barely a ripple in the magical membrane. Certainly not enough to alert anyone.

 

With more affection and adoration in his eyes than he would have imagined, Sans slid two of the mugs down next to the working monsters. Then he took his cup and silently made his way back up the stairs on hushed, slippered feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I'm finally home, but the new puppy we just adopted is an adorable, incredibly intelligent handful.


	14. Hardware store

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long - my computer died. I'm working on getting a new one. In the meantime, have this.
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry.

Asgore woke to the smell of frying bacon. He smiled - Toriel had always been an early riser. He lifted his arms into a fluid stretch and turned in his chair. At the stove, Toriel was humming a song in such an offkey way that he could not identify it.

On the counter behind her Sans sat, more than happy to watch her at work. His skull didn’t show it - that was still tense as a wire. No, what showed it was his magic. It was sparkling like cider, sharp like fresh green onions, and shimmering like sunlight in a brook.

Asgore padded over behind him and encircled him in his arms. A single hiccup was the only pause before Sans leant back into him and purred. Toriel peeked over her shoulder at them. She stifled a giggle as she turned back to the frying pan, leaving him and Sans to their moment.

“mmnm,” Sans’ purr smothered down into silence, “good morning.”

“Good morning to yourself, Sans. Did you sleep well?”

The skeleton in his arms chuckled, “more than you. how was the milk?”

Asgore rumbled happily, “Excellent. Thank you.”

“you know, you should actually get some sleep in your bed every night. it’s very important.”

The smile on his skull verged on cheeky.

“I am aware of that. As I recall, I gave you a similar lecture not long ago.”

“yup,” definitely cheeky, “you did.”

“Perhaps we should both take better note of our speeches.”

“yup.”

Toriel butted in, “Perhaps you could make further note of them this afternoon. Asgore’s bedroom is in sore need of a makeover, and you two males are going to pick out paint samples for me to chose. I also would appreciate some firmer pillows, while you are out.”

“Yes, Tori.”

“The girls will be spending the day resting. Papyrus and Frisk have volunteered to be my grocery gofers for today. That leaves the two of you with the van to spend as much time as you need at the hardware store.”

“kay, tor. we’ll try to stay out of trouble.”

She smiled, “See that you do. But before that, would you be so kind, Gorey, as to go upstairs and wake up our guests? This bacon is almost finished, and the pastries are already cooling in the oven.”

“Of course dear,” Asgore hugged Sans tight and kissed his head, “I’ll just leave our skeleton here to watch you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Asgore had to force himself to walk past the garden center. He knew his plants back home were doing wonderfully, and he knew there was barely a centimeter of ground not covered in foliage of some sort. Still, it was one of the hardest things he had done in some time.

Sans seemed so subdued today. Intellectually, Asgore knew he would not have bounced back this fast. It still hurt his heart to see the adorable little skeleton look like that. His eye lights were half their normal intensity. His shoulders were hunched, his hands were shaking in their pockets, and his feet were dragging on the ground and scuffing up his brand new sneakers.

Part of the problem was the humans around them. While every other time Asgore had come here they had been polite and friendly, their fellow customers today were constantly giving his shorter companion dirty looks.

One pair bumped their cart into Sans on the edge of the lock section. He quickly assured Asgore that he was fine, but the Boss Monster noticed a slight limp that he hasn't been showing before. Asgore thought about asking him if he wanted to ride in the cart. He decided against it, as it would make Sans look too much a child.

When they were comparing pillows for firmness, both monsters could make out some hateful, demeaning words on the other side of the shelves. The speaker seemed to have some fear of skeletons, because the worst comments referred to Sans. He shrugged it off, but Asgore felt the sour shift in his magic. They moved of quickly.

It all culminated when a particularly angry looking human bumped into a display of paint rollers. They fell all over Sans, and he slipped and landed hard on the tangled mess. The snap of cheap metal was accompanied by the snap of bone.

Asgore was on his knees in an instant. He scooped the dark eyed, shaking Sans into his arms and stood up, crushing several rollers under his feet.

His eyes meet those of the offending human. Their mouth was open in a viscous small, but the cold disappointment in the former King's eyes stopped them dead. He turned away without a word and walked away.

He stopped briefly by the manager of the section and spoke, “I wish to apologize for the mess we just made. Please tally the broken stock and send the bill to the Monster Embassy.”

The man, whom Asgore had spoken with several times before, waved him away.

“Don't worry ‘bout it. Just let me know that your friends okay. Stuff like that really gets my goat, no offense intended.”

Asgore smiled, relieved that the unfortunate incident would not cause any problems, and that the staff of this store maintained the monster-friendly stance her had seen before. So many monsters in this area had come to rely on this store. It would have been hard for them to deal with avoiding it.

Now, to see to Sans. Asgore was distressed to see that his small new datefriend was leaking. Red liquid so similar to a human’s blood was staining his new, blue shirt. Sweat was dropping down his skull, and his mouth was tense as anything.

The rapid deterioration made Asgore jump from the 15 minute drive home to the much shorter drive to the hospital. Toriel's had informed him of their skeleton's fears. But with this injury, Asgore did not feel as though he had a choice. He would make every effort not to leave Sans’ side. That was all he could do.

 

* * *

 

 

Toriel was busy scrubbing the side of the counter in the kitchen when her cell phone rang. She peeled off her gloves and dropped them on the floor. Then she grabbed the device from of the counter and slid the green icon over to the side.

“Hello, this is Toriel speaking.”

“Howdy, dear. Something happened while we were at the store, and I'm afraid I need you to find Papyrus and meet us at the hospital.”

Her brows drew together. She quickly made her way over to the closet, grabbing a light khaki jacket and slipping it on. If she was going to be spending as much time in the chilly hospital as she thought she was then she would need the warmth.

“What happened to him?”

“Well…”


	15. Hospital

When Toriel arrived at the hospital, she was not quite certain where to go. Was she a visitor? Was there a desk where she needed to be checked in? Had Sans even left the emergency room yet? She had heard from Terrance, Roger’s father, that the wait time in many emergency rooms could be quite long. As she did not know how badly her skeleton was injured, she decided to start in the emergency room. She was sure they would be able to direct her to the right place if she was wrong.

 

The moment the sliding glass doors whooshed open, Toriel was assaulted by a cacophony of noise, pain, and emotion. She reeled under the impact- how could humans stand to be in an atmosphere like this for hours at a time? It was toxic.

 

Fortunately for her, Asgore spotted her stunned form in the doorway and hurried over. He wrapped one broad arm around her shoulders and led her in. One of the clerks at what was clearly the check in counter opened their mouth, but at Asgore’s dismissive wave they closed it. He led her over to a set of benches by the wall. They were the only seating in the entire room big enough to accommodate their size.

 

“The atmosphere is overpowering, I know. A class 3 shield seems to block it out well, however.”

 

Toriel took her partner’s advice and felt immediate relief, “Thank you, Gorey. Where is Sans?”

 

Asgore chuckled, although there was an edge of worry to it, “To the point as always, my dear. To be honest, I’m not really sure. Some nice young humans in supportive shoes wheeled him off through the main doors almost as soon as we came in. The people at the desks asked me to provide some information. I’m afraid I didn’t know most of it. Then they said someone would call with an update soon.”

 

Toriel nodded. She was glad that Sans was already being seen to, but it did not bode well for his current condition. Speaking of which, she still wanted answers.

 

“You will, of course, tell me what happened this morning while we wait for Papyrus and Frisk to arrive. I am sure it is an interesting story. After all, a trip to the hardware store hardly seems like an injurious event.”

 

Asgore gulped, “Yes, Toriel. Of course.”

 

* * *

 

In the red convertible currently speeding down the highway at precisely 65 miles per hour, the local speed limit, Frisk was wringing their hands with unconcealed worry. Sans was so fragile, what if he dusted? What if he’d broken off a limb? What if he’d gone blind?

 

{You know you can LOAD to this morning. It worked for the car crash and the bombing. He wouldn’t even know it had happened.}

 

Frisk hesitated. Chara was right, they  _ could _ just LOAD. But if they did that, they wouldn’t know how Sans got hurt. If they didn’t know, they couldn’t stop it. Then Sans would get hurt again and again, and if they LOADED the same spot too many times in a row everyone started to get nightmares. That wasn’t good.

 

Furtively, hiding their hands so Papyrus wouldn’t see, the human signed.

 

-not yet.-

 

* * *

 

“Are you the family of Sans the Skeleton?”

 

“Yes?” Three voices answered in unison. The nurse smiled - clearly this skeleton had a lot of love.

 

“I’m afraid you can’t see him yet, but I thought you might like an update on his condition.”

 

The family, to a monster - oh, and one human child - nodded.

 

“There was quite a bit of damage. Multiple broken bones and extensive bruising. He’s in surgery at the moment. It took some time to fit him into the schedule. We’ve got him sedated while we stabilize the breaks. Because of the severity and locations of the breaks, especially those in his clavicle, we’ve needed to insert Kirschner wires for stability. Someone will give you a more extensive rundown later. It shouldn’t be long until he’s moved into a room. He’ll be out of it for a while, I’m afraid. We’re not certain how everything will react with his singular HP. It might be several days before he wakes up, or it could be an hour. I’m sorry I can’t be more specific.”

 

“THAT’S OKAY HUMAN! MY BROTHER’S HP MAKES EVERYTHING TRICKY. I’M SURE YOU ARE DOING YOUR BEST.”

 

The nurse smiled. Something about this loud, enthusiastic speech made them feel much more confident in themself. The stunned look on the other monsters’ faces certainly wasn’t helping.

 

“Thank you. We probably won’t be seeing each other again, but I hope your - is he your brother?”

 

“YES.”

 

The skeleton seemed to be the only one currently capable of talking.

 

“Well then, I hope your brother gets better soon. The doctors think he’ll have a long recovery, but I’m sure that with such a loving family the time will fly by.”

 

Interestingly, the kid nodded just as enthusiastically as the skeleton. The two large, furry monsters still seemed stunned. The nurse smiled at them sympathetically. Then a warbled summons from their pager forced them to leave.

 

* * *

 

When the nurse had gone the few steps that were all that was needed to be out of earshot, the two Boss Monsters rounded on the tall skeleton with a combination of worry and anger in their expressions. 

 

“1 HP?” 

 

Toriel’s voice was distraught. Not without reason; even the weakest monster child had at least 10 HP. Most had upwards of 50. Adults could have HP anywhere from 50 to 1000 - and that was non Boss Monsters. Even monsters on the edge of Falling Down only got down to 10 HP before they passed out. But 1? 1 was unheard of, let alone a number that could be associated with a living monster who walked around and dragged members of the PTA through the dirt on a regular basis.

 

Asgore, on the other hand, was blubbering. His mind was replaying the scene from a few mornings before. The ‘schklop’ of magic disconnecting. The slow liquefaction of blue magic. The unnatural stretch of bones barely holding together. The stain on the floor. How close had he come to facing a pile of dust?

 

“YES? DIDN’T YOU KNOW? I THOUGHT HE TOLD EVERYONE. HE TOLD UNDYNE AND ALPHYS AND GRILLBY AND DOGGO AND LESSER DOG AND GREATER DOG AND DOGAMY AND DOGARESSA AND...WELL, I DON’T ACTUALLY REMEMBER HIM TELLING FRISK, BUT YOU KNOW, DON’T YOU FRISK?”

 

Frisk nodded and signed in confusion.

 

-he tells people if he spends a lot of time around them. hasn’t he told you?-

 

Toriel shook her head, “No, my child. He has not. I am sure he meant to, or perhaps he believed we already knew? But we did not know. If I had known...how long has he suffered from this, Papyrus?”

 

“HE’S ALWAYS HAD IT?”

 

Toriel blinked at him. Her expression grew more and more pained. Then she rushed forward and swept him into a hug. Tears ran freely from her eyes. She whispered words into his skull - things like “poor thing” and “so brave” and “all these years”.

 

Asgore collapsed onto his bench slowly, so slowly you could hardly call it a collapse at all. Frisk watched him stare into his hands. He, too, had tears rolling down his face. He, too was whispering. Frisk inched close enough to overhear. 

 

“-ave known. The way they were looking at him...ill intent. So close. He came so close to...and it was paint rollers. Such a small thing. We should have-”

 

Frisk had heard all they needed to know. They nudged the stunned Goat Dad, signed to him that they were going to the bathroom, and made their escape. Once in the safety of the bathroom stall, they let Chara know they were ready to LOAD. In a matter of seconds, the black veil of a time-skip overtook the world.

 

* * *

 

Somewhere far away...or was it very nearby?...Either way, the building was on the Surface. It looked like a cross between a warehouse and a computer glitch. This was appropriate, since the building housed one of the world’s premier beta-testing facilities. Hundreds of computer scientists and gamers (usually one and the same) spent their weekdays mashing keys in an attempt to simulate that one user who would trigger a bug. Not the most glamorous of professions, but it was a good way to get your foot in the industry - especially if you weren’t the best at talking to people.

 

This, however, was not a workday. Today the geeks were free - although most of them were still in the building. Some were watching from the conference room. Others were sitting at computers, doing what they usually did; this time with a great deal more purpose and focus.

 

One of the companies that hired this particular firm was holding a competition. Since more than half the employees were going to enter it anyway, the facility offered to host the event and, incidentally, earning a large chunk of the entry fees. 

 

One of these entry fees belonged to a particularly small competitor. He wasn’t even in a chair. He’d perched himself on the edge of the table and somehow, miraculously, wasn’t falling off with the intensity of his actions. Maybe not so miraculously; thick roots looped around the keyboard and monitor to pass through the window and out to the ground below.

 

Flowey was having the time of his life, given that a) he wasn’t alive, and b) he couldn’t feel emotions. He was climbing the leaderboards with the inevitable speed of someone who had spent millennia trapped in a temporal loop facing enemies far more dangerous than these fools (Okay, friends and family, too. They could be the scariest).

 

In the blink of an eye, Flowey found himself no longer seconds away from winning the prize money he so clearly deserved. Instead, he was wrapped tightly in the top rails of a train. A tunnel was rapidly approaching. He flattened himself to the roof of the car with a sigh. Travel on the surface was so annoying. Why did everything have to be so far apart?

 

He didn’t bother being annoyed at the LOAD. It wasn’t the first time, heck, they weren’t even in the hundreds anymore. Anyway, he couldn’t feel it properly even if he tried. But still, he wondered what the heck had happened to make them LOAD this time. Maybe someone died. Yeah, that was probably it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to talk with me more about this fanfic or others I've written, see my comic, art, or generally mooch about, I can be found on tumblr under the username yastaghr here:
> 
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/yastaghr
> 
> Mostly I do Undertale stuff - the comic is Undertale. So are most of my drawings. There are also stories and randomized reblogs. Feel free to join me.
> 
> Or not. That works too.


	16. Chapter 16 - RESET 2, LOAD 3727

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for: descriptions of wounds and violence.

Asgore woke to the smell of frying bacon. He smiled - Toriel had always been an early riser. He lifted his arms into a fluid stretch and turned in his chair. At the stove, Toriel was humming a song in such an offkey way that he could not identify it. 

 

On the counter behind her, Sans was-

 

_ His small new datefriend was leaking. Red liquid so similar to a human’s blood was staining his new, blue shirt. Sweat was dropping down his skull, and his mouth was tense as anything. _

 

Asgore’s pupils took over his eyes. His breath froze in his throat as the image took over his mind. It overrode everything else and left him petrified in his chair.

  
  


Toriel was at the stove. Her newest pan held sizzling bacon above the biggest burner of her stove. Not that it was on (her fire magic was easier to control, easier to feel, than the mechanical alternative) but the little rounds portioned the space well enough. The pan felt amazing; it was far more efficient than her previous finds. She would have to thank-

 

_ “...quite a bit of damage. Multiple broken bones and extensive bruising...surgery...severity and locations of the breaks, especially those in his clavicle...We’re not certain how everything will react with his singular HP…” _

 

When the words had finished ringing in her head like clarion bells, Toriel moved. She dropped everything; the meal did not matter. Her emotions had taken over, as they often did. She let them, let them spin her around and snatch her tense datefriend off the counter, let them crouch her body in the corner with him cradled against her chest, let them growl an auditory warning while her eyes blazed with raw, red magic.

 

This was her datefriend. No one would touch him. No one would hurt him. He was hers and she would protect him with everything she had.

 

* * *

 

In the driveway, a guilty human clenched their fist and drew their hand back from the glittering star. The familiar rush of DETERMINATION once again plummeted into something darker. When they were in the Underground, they’d thought nothing of LOADing five, ten, a hundred times in a row. After all, what did it matter in the end? No one else remembered. It was the perfect way to make sure they got everything right.

 

Not now. Now every LOAD brought with it a mountain’s worth of guilt that not even Chara could hold back. 

 

Now, they were painfully aware of the way Papyrus twitched whenever he passed through the intersection of Countyline and MLK. They couldn’t unsee the way his spine had gotten wrapped around the frame of the Jeep that had pulled a U-turn  _ through _ the ‘No U-Turns’ sign and into Papyrus’ brand new car. He hadn’t really captured the idea that other drivers might not follow the rules of the road. He still didn’t. He’d had 13 different accidents so far, all of them deadly. After the first three they’d learned how to remind him gently,  _ without _ insulting him, that humans could be jerks. Now they only needed to LOAD once. 

 

Undyne had given up on her career in Surface Law Enforcement, which was both a relief and a burden to the human. They’d talked every monster who had done so into choosing something else. It left the deck unfairly stacked against them, but the Embassy helped somewhat. It was better than whatever had left Undyne a bleeding, shaking mess with one arm dangling in its socket. She favored that arm now, and it didn’t go up above her shoulder like it once had. Alphys had said it was inevitable given her earlier lifestyle, but Frisk knew better.

 

Muffet had panic attacks anytime she left the Embassy building, so now her cafe and home occupied the first floor. The spiders had told Frisk that she dreamed of men in white hazmat suits every night. They remembered seeing her collapse into a heap of dust when they’d informed her that they’d killed off every one of her eight-legged family members. The humans had been  _ proud  _ about it. As if mass genocide were-

 

Two red-gloved hands snaked around Frisk’s torso and lifted them out of their brooding and into a hug. 

 

“HUMAN, THE GREAT PAPYRUS CANNOT HELP BUT NOTICE THAT YOU ARE SHIVERING. DO WE NEED TO RETURN TO THE KING’S HOUSE AND FIND YOU A BIG, WARM COAT? OR PERHAPS A HEAT LAMP? DR. ALPHYS INFORMS ME THAT SPENDING AT LEAST ONE HOUR A DAY BENEATH A HEAT LAMP IS VITAL TO A HER HEALTH. PERHAPS HUMANS REQUIRE THIS AS WELL?”

 

The human currently cradled in the tall skeleton’s arms smiled. Trust Papyrus to spot a dark thought and banish it. 

 

Papyrus, who was left without a reply, made his way back to the house. Frisk was supported with the care and attention to detail characteristic to the skeleton. As much as Papyrus’ body bobbed as he climbed the stairs that mounted the steep hillside, Frisk did not feel a single jolt. 

 

Their face remained untouched by the big poofy hedge-plant-thing that Asgore had practically brought back from the dead to line the walkway to his home. They personally thought it was taking up too much space, but maybe he had a reason to wait to cut it back? Frisk had to admit they didn’t know much about gardening. Or house paint, although they liked the color Goat-dad had picked to replace the peeling stuff that had been here before. It was kind of purple, but also kind of green?

 

{His SOUL glows the same shade.}

 

Frisk was treated once again to the sounds (but never sights, as much as they might like to) of their guest’s former life. Wordless humming and the feeling of fear retreating under something they personally recognized as safety. Chara-of-the-past had not, but they’d surrendered to it pretty quickly.

 

{Sorry.}

 

Frisk pushed the apology away. They liked feeling Chara’s thoughts and feelings. It was what had carried them through the Underground. They hoped it wouldn’t fade when they finally figured out how to give Chara a body again. They had a lot of things like that on their List Of Things To Do. It didn’t ever seem to get any shorter, but then again, they were only, like, ten. Or eleven. Maybe twelve. They didn’t have a very good grasp of linear time. They probably never would.

 

They did have a good grasp of befores and afters, though. Like, before they fell into the Underground they had tripped over a vine. And before they could smell Goat-mom’s pie she needed to bake it. That kind of stuff.

 

So they understood that Papyrus had to have walked through the door to the house before they could see Alphys and Undyne standing in the doorway to the kitchen. They looked confused. Alphys was hunched over her glasses with furrowed brows; she was cleaning them with vigor. Undyne was scowling; the sparks of a spear  _ just _ on the edge of summoning were dancing around her shoulders. 

 

Papyrus, with the obliviousness that Frisk had just started to realise was probably fake, walked straight up to the others and peered into the room. He was saying something, but the human couldn’t make it out over the growling that had filled their ears.

 

From their perfect vantage point on Papyrus’ shoulders, Frisk was able to see everything, and everything they saw brought that guilt back into the forefront of their mind. 

 

Asgore had the same look on his face that they’d seen in the first run, back when they were scared because they thought the monsters would be like humans. They couldn’t get the image out of their head of him crumbling to dust with that expression still on his face. The only difference was that, then, there had been an element of relief. Now, there was only fear and frozen panic.

 

Toriel was wearing an expression Frisk had never seen on her face. Before, they’d seen resignation, disgust, and concern. They’d never seen fury.

 

Sans was, from what they could see, the least affected of the three. He still had the smile he always had, although it wasn’t as tense as it had been yester...this morn...right after Undyne had talked to him. He didn’t seem inclined to move out of Toriel’s arms, though. Frisk had to admit they couldn’t blame him. They weren’t sure how she would react, and, anyway, Goat-mom’s arms were  _ really _ soft. 

 

{The softest.}

 

Frisk felt the longing and mentally moved getting Chara and Asriel back to a higher spot on their list. Right after getting the newest romantic relationship stable and helping Papyrus and Sans. And that would start with getting Sans out of Toriel’s arms and talking to everyone about his HP. This might take a while.


	17. Pillows and Boxes

The couches in Asgore’s chasm of a living room were incredibly comfortable. Almost everything else in the room was designed for style over comfort, although a few pieces of art that had clearly been gifts dotted the walls. There were beautiful blankets and pillows that no one used.

 

There was also a cabinet in the wall near the fireplace that held warm and comfortable alternatives that had plenty of use. The cabinet was actually half-empty at the moment. Two of the blankets had been commandeered for Alphys and Frisk. Most of the pillows were piled around and above Sans.

 

Toriel had refused to relinquish her grip on the shorter skeleton, so he and his protective pile of pillows were in her lap. Asgore sat next to them, and his whole body conveyed the impression that he might jump to his feet and make a dash for more pillows at any moment. Undyne held Alphys in her lap on the loveseat to the left of Asgore, Sans, and Toriel. She was sitting as close to the fireplace as she could get because Alphys was still freezing. Frisk sat cross-legged in the armchair across from them. Papyrus knelt at the human’s feet.

 

Toriel had just finished explaining why, in the middle of cooking her second round of breakfast,  she had felt in necessary to turn into a defensive huddle of a monster. Asgore had spoken first; He had not so much explained as dumped the vision on them. Sharing it had eased his panic at the expense of everyone else’s. Toriel’s auditory version made everyone’s shoulders rise. The silence that followed was awkward. No one knew what to say next.

 

Undyne, however, rarely suffered from silence for long, “Well. That sucks,” she refused to notice Toriel’s glare, “I mean, it’s weird that both of you had _that_ kind of a...thing at the same time. But if my babe had 1hp I’d be worried too!”

 

Papyrus, Alphys, and Sans were all nodding. Frisk was somehow even more of a stiff lump than before.

 

The two boss monsters jaws had both gone slack.

 

“1...HP?”

 

It was hard to tell who had spoken. They both looked shaken enough to have been responsible.

 

Five eyes and two eye sockets focused on them. The other two sockets had closed to the point where wrinkles in the malleable bone spread through the rest of the tense skull.

 

Undyne’s brow furrowed, “Um, yeah? Didn’t he tell you guys?”

 

All gazes flicked to Sans and the pile. The pile flinched.

 

“BROTHER?”

 

“i, um...forgot. sorry.”

 

Undyne’s eye gained a sinister sparkle, but Papyrus’ boisterous voice drowned out whatever comment she might have made.

 

“THAT IS ALRIGHT, SANS. IT HAS BEEN SOME TIME SINCE YOU NEEDED TO TELL ANYONE,” the taller skeleton cleared his non-existent throat, “PLEASE EXCUSE MY BROTHER, YOUR MAJESTIES. HE HAS HAD 1 HP MY ENTIRE LIFE. HIS SOUL HAS A LOT OF MAGIC, BUT HIS BODY DOESN’T HAVE ENOUGH SOLID TO KEEP UP.”

 

There was no immediate reply. Both Boss Monsters were still processing; Asgore’s pupils grew wider and wider with every moment. Toriel, though… Toriel looked like a cross between a general who has just heard of her next campaign and that same general in the heat of battle. Both were roles she had filled before.

 

Undyne, however, just looked pissed. Her golden eye was shining as cold and hard as a dragon’s hoard. Her teeth gleamed, too, like the heart of a glacier. They parted. She wheezed.

 

Alphys withdrew the tactical elbow she’d shoved into her girlfriend’s stomach. Her eyes were focused despite her exhaustion. Her mouth was neither tense nor loose, instead hovering at that perfect tension every highwire walker dreams to achieve. Her hands weren’t quite touching; at any moment they could. And yet, despite all this, there was an essence of frown that just was.

 

“Do you know what, um...why?”

 

The top pillow on the pile, a zig-zag covered bag of floof, lifted just enough to turn 75 degrees and face the yellow-scaled scientist. Almost every other pair of eyes had followed suit. Undyne’s one eye was still scrunched in pain. Papyrus, alone of all the monsters in the room, was watching Sans.

 

“...no,” Sans finally said, hanging onto the N for some time, “i don’t really remember much before we showed up in snowdin. pap?”

 

There was not even enough time for heads to swivel before Papyrus answered, “ISN’T IT JUST SOMETHING HE WAS BORN WITH?”

 

Alphys shook her head so hard her glasses almost came off. Her hands were already wringing.

 

“Sorry, um. No. It’s not? I mean, souls can b-b-be… but they won’t survive to birth. Monster children are always born with at least 10 HP. At least-”

 

Toriel did not let Alphys second guess herself, “That is correct, Doctor Alphys,” the tired monster gave her a microscopic smile, “Most children have upwards of 50. Asgore’s father had the highest on record at 230. To go below 10 HP… something must have happened.”

 

Papyrus frowned, “I DO NOT REMEMBER SEEING WHAT CAUSED IT,” Frisk blinked, “IT DID NOT HAPPEN AFTER WE CAME TO SNOWDIN.”

 

Asgore jumped to his feet. Eleven eyes stared at him. He blushed.

 

“I’m sorry, I just- I need to call Grillby!”

 

Papyrus’ face lit up.

 

“DAD! I HAVEN’T SEEN HIM SINCE THE DOG’S PARTY! CAN YOU TELL HIM I SAID HI?”

 

Asgore smiled softly at the tall skeleton. Everyone did, but Frisk’s smile ended just in time to catch the bittersweet pain on Sans face. Somehow, with the smile, it hurt all the more.

 

* * *

 

Humans had the oddest of ideas sometimes. Unfortunately, a lot of those ideas made their way into law. Laws could be worked around or changed, but it wasn’t an easy process. Still, sometimes the effort was worth it.

 

Grillby had found himself on the wrong side of human laws many times. Only once was it deliberate. The fact that that moment had occurred during the War might possibly be relevant. So was the fact that that action had saved the lives of several humans.

 

Usually, though, humanity’s problems with him had to do with his nature. He was a flame; humans feared fire. He tried not to provoke or scare anyone, but when it came to his restaurant, well… He put his foot down. No one would take that away from him. In all honesty, no one had put much effort into trying. But still.

 

He wondered what those few adamant humans would think if they saw his attic. The restaurant was liquid nitrogen when compared to the highly flammable mass of paper, old clothing, wooden furniture, and extra kindling that filled his attic fit to bursting. If any of this caught fire, the whole house would be an inferno in minutes. Probably his neighbors’ houses, too.

 

But Grillby was an old flame, and old flames knew their fire better than a human would know the back of their hands. The only things that would catch fire would be things he wanted to catch fire. Even at his weakest, in those moments where exhaustion and illness dragged him down, Grillby had never lost control.

 

There were few things that challenged that control. Today he was up here, hip deep in a tide of old account books and letter, because one of those things needed to be looked at again. It was hard to keep from sparking up at the memory of it. But he knew, even if it hurt, that this time it would be worth the effort. After all, this time he had the support of the king. More importantly, he knew Toriel was in on it, too. No one sane messed with her when she was angry. At least, not if they wanted to live.

 

The only problem with gathering the information Asgore needed was his age. Grillby was 1,522 years old. A lot of stuff could be accumulated in that much time, even if he was still less than half of his species average lifespan. It didn’t help that he was a bit of a pack rat. He just found it difficult to throw anything away. Unfortunately, that made it hard to find something when he needed it. It was like finding one star in a galaxy.

 

He persevered, and that perseverance paid off. Underneath three of Fuko’s textbooks from last year and two boxes of finely-aged pinecones (his mother knew him too well) was the box he’d been searching for. It still had glitter on it. Papyrus loved the stuff, and of course that love extended to his old clothing boxes. He didn’t know that Grillby had used this one for something else.

 

Grillby carefully pulled out the old shirts and set them aside. If he brought them downstair he just knew Papyrus would somehow sense it. Papyrus absolutely hated getting rid of old clothing. Grillby had learned that stealing it on laundry day was the only way to get him to let go.

 

Underneath the shirts was a sheet of cardboard the same color as the box itself. Grillby pushed at one edge for almost a minute before the opposite one finally popped up. Digging his fingers into the miniscule gap, he pried it up and set it on top of the shirts. Now the hidden contents were finally revealed.

 

The first layer was a somewhat red folder, the kind that could be tied shut with a bit of twine. The twine had long since decayed, but the documents within had been preserved better. The edges of the photos weren’t even curled.

 

Inside the folder was the sad summary of everything Grillby had learned about Sans’ and Papyrus’ origins. It wasn’t much. He’d been too busy taking care of them to put much effort into it. Mostly it was photos - photos he’d snuck of both boys. There were fewer shots of Papyrus than his brother. But the anecdotes he’d weaseled out of the taller brother outnumbered Sans’ ten to one.

 

He’d started the folder at the request of the guards. Everyone could see there was something wrong with the brothers’ situation. But those guards had died long before the investigation could be really started. What had seemed like a blessing, in the form of an industrial ton of dog food, had turned out to be poisonous enough to send half the Royal Guard into a coma. They weren’t dead, but Endogeny was too unpredictable to be a guard, and no one had known they’d survived until the arrival of Frisk.

 

But now that folder could finally be of use. Grillby was about to close the secret compartment again when a splotch of blue fabric caught his eye. He halted, taking in the slighly smoke-damaged album that was still in the box. His hand-written label was hard to make out under the thick grey residue, but he hardly needed it. This album was one he’d been continually putting off searching for for some time.

 

A wide sliver of yellow spread across his orange flames. He was sure Asgore would like to see this as well. Toriel, too. And of course, Frisk.

 

He tucked both collections of photos and paper under one arm. Then he stood and began mincing his way through the stacks of memories, completely forgetting to repack the box he’d opened so recently. It wouldn’t be the first.


	18. Chapter 18 - Trombone

Grillby finished his turn into the cul de sac holding Toriel’s cottage and sighed. No van waited under the carport. No red convertible graced the driveway. No beat up hatchback did, either. It seemed they were at Asgore’s house after all. Or would they be at his sons’ townhome? 

 

The flame decided it was better to ask for clarification before he wasted the rest of the day blindly driving around the Mt. Ebbot sprawl. He dug around in his overpacked inventory until finally, inside a ceramic bowl he'd been meaning to get repaired for weeks, he found his phone. It was a birthday present from the queen, an upgrade on his ancient flip phone. It had given him the ability to text much faster. He was now very proud of that ability and used it on all possible occasions.

 

> Grillby: Miss Tori?
> 
>  
> 
> Toriel: You do remember I have asked you not to call me that, do you not?
> 
>  
> 
> Grillby: I do. I also remember your parents instructing me to use that name. They never corrected me.
> 
>  
> 
> Toriel: ]:(. What is it that you want?
> 
>  
> 
> Grillby: Which house are you at?
> 
>  
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> Toriel: Gorey’s. It was you that he called, then, was it not?
> 
>  
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> Grillby: Yes. I have photos.
> 
>  
> 
> Toriel: Ah.
> 
>  
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> Grillby: Happy ones, too.
> 
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> Toriel: I will give you cinnamon cones in exchange for copies.
> 
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> Grillby: No.
> 
>  
> 
> Toriel: Please?
> 
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> Grillby: Your cute eyes have never worked on me and you know it. But maybe I will bring some by if you invite me to Giftmas. 
> 
>  
> 
> Toriel: ]:) Then I shall simply have to invite you!

  
  


Well, that was two problems settled. His boys were at the king’s house, and he could finally attend a Giftmas ceremony with Sans. Toriel would not let her new datemate get out of such an important event. Even if he had avoided every single one Papyrus and Grillby had held to date. 

 

Or rather, every one Papyrus had organized. Grillby’s grasp of the passage of time was… loose. He knew when to open the restaurant, when to close, and when to resupply. Things like days off were for other monsters and humans. He prefered to work.

 

For a monster who had lived as long as he had… Gods, was it 1500 years already? No, that had been the birthday Gerson insisted on dictating his congratulations letter to him over the phone because Grillby didn’t have text yet. Or was that 1400? No, he was fairly certain that had been 1500. So Fuko would have been 863, and Papyrus would...have...been…

 

How old was Papyrus again? Grillby was sure he was at least...at least what? The flame had a terrible memory for dates. He’d be the first to admit it could be a bit of a problem. But the age of his own son? Sons, now he came to think about it. He had no more idea of how old Sans was than he had Papyrus. 

 

He supposed it was another thing to ask them, although he should know better than to try. Papyrus would just hem and haw and weasel his way out of answering, and Sans simply wouldn’t remember. He’d have to bring it up to their Majesties. Maybe they would have more success than he’d had.

 

* * *

 

It was Undyne who opened the door for him. She’d clearly been scowling at something, but after a second or two to process who was standing there her scowl flipped into a very toothy grin. Grillby nodded back. Any monster who could eat three days worth of cheese fries _and_ _pay for them_ was, at the very least, worthy of respect.

 

Grillby twisted his flames around her persistent efforts to snatch the greasy bag on top of the pile of photo albums, folios. He really should clean out his inventory more often. It was just that, well, what if he needed something and he’d already cleaned it out? He knew it was stupid, but he’d had something like 1500 years to get used to his system. He wasn’t likely to break the habit now.

 

Apparently his keep away game wasn't good enough to beat the former head of the Royal Guard. Undyne snatched one of the blue folios, unwrapped the strings holding the flap closed, and pulled a photograph out at random. The pupil of yet one working eye blew up like the hot air balloon from the ride his daughter and brother had given him for Gyftmas.

 

Grillby knew that information and photos about Sans went into the blue folios. He also knew that Undyne disliked Sans, although he never could tell why. Any photos out of the #1 folio would make anyone with even a sliver of a soul uncomfortable. That folio was full of the pictures Grillby had (surreptitiously) taken before he had convinced Sans to see a healer.

 

Grillby let the former guard keep that folio for now. Maybe she'd learn a little sympathy for his son. Probably not, but still he hoped. 

 

Grillby slipped himself and the objects he was carrying like fire flaring up from the sides of a pan. As he was doing this he noted a battered black case leaning against the brand new coat rack. Something about it looked familiar; the mass of stickers holding it together, the makeshift handle made of a thin branch from some kind of fir tree and some ancient duct tape, the half melted clasp that somehow still worked - all of these things struck a chord in him… 

 

Oh. It was Sans’ trombone case. He hadn't heard his son play anything other than gag riffs since well before the Barrier fell. It had been his little escape. When Sans was playing, nothing else existed but the song. If he'd brought it out, Sans’ new datemates were having a very good influence.

 

The flame decided to give in to his desire. The album and folios could wait. Hearing the wonderful music that Sans could make was suddenly a higher priority. He left Undyne in the entryway as he carried the trombone almost reverentially into the great room.

 

Five people that he could see (and one pile of pillows) stared at him as he turned the corner. Toriel lit up like a sparkler when she saw the case. Their human, Frisk, did as well. Although the ambassador’s expression was not nearly as bright. Grillby had the suspension that music had not featured heavily in their former life.

 

Papyrus’ sockets did the it weird googly eyes again. His son had never been able to explain how that worked. The Royal Scientist (what was her name again? Angora? Alexa? Oh, yes. Alphys) was shivering under a thick blanket. Grillby asked the fire to burn hotter for her sake. It did. For this reason, he suspected, Undyne tried to slap him on the back. He let it pass through without even the temperature his flames would need to dry out her scales. She rubbed her hand anyway and shot him a dirty look.

 

Asgore’s brow furrowed and his head tilted just a little bit to the left. Grillby greeted this, as always, with the enigmatic unreadability of an old flame. He had been messing, subtly, with Boss Monsters for more than a thousand years. Why would he stop a winning streak?

 

Still maintaining that unreadable mask, Grillby strode over to the pile of pillows and casually removed the top 3. As he had suspected, his shortest skeletal son was thoroughly wrapped and ensconced in a cocoon of soft. Sans looked like he was on the thin edge between sleep and tension. That wouldn't do. Grillby excavated the pile some more, tuning out any protests that might have been being made.

 

Once Sans was completely free of the blankets and pillows Grillby handed him the trombone. Sans looked at it, looked at him, looked at it again, and sighed. He slowly unbuckled the worn and melted clasps. Inside was the familiar trombone. Well, perhaps not completely familiar. Grillby had never seen it polished so bright.

 

Sans gives him a pleading look before he reluctantly begins to play (  [ https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=kYV-JxDfdYM ](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=kYV-JxDfdYM) ). Frisk sways with their whole body -not exactly in tempo, but close. Undyne, too, was lost in the music. Papyrus was watching his brother and grinning so much his mandible might fall off. Alphys was entranced more by the fireplace than the music. Asgore was crying, but his hands were without tension. Toriel's gaze was fixed on Sans every movement. 

 

The shorter skeleton, after he got past his initial little snit, brought nuances and emotions to the song that hadn't been there to begin with. His magic started to weave into his playing. Grillby could feel how tangled it had been, but the song eased it's tensions. Some of the ragged edges began to arrange themselves in a much more organized fridge. They weren’t healing yet, that was true. But the musical escape had worked it's magic on Sans; now it was ready for the healing to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know when the next chapter will be out. If you want to come see previews, RPs, and randomised reblogs, you can join me on my Tumblr:
> 
> yastaghr.tumblr.com


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